The Darkest Kiss

Chapter 4

He stared at me for a moment, his expression neutral. But his blue eyes were even darker than before, and the sense of his anger increased. This time, it was aimed at me.

“Are you sure?” he said eventually, and the effort of control was evident in the burly, thick notes invading his rich tones.

“Yes.”

“Then why in the hell did you let him go?” He said it with such force that it blew the sweaty strands of hair away from my face and had the ambulance guys looking around sharply.

I waved a hand to tell them it was okay, and met Ben’s anger head-on. “Because he was a fucking vampire who jumped out the window and then probably flew away. I’m many things, Ben, but I haven’t quite learned to fly yet.”

He looked at me for a moment, then took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Sorry. You’re doing me a favor by even being here, and I shouldn’t be taking my frustration out on you.”

I smiled and touched his arm lightly. Warmth tingled through my fingers—a reaction not so much to the heat of his skin as to simple contact. I might have denied my need for it over these past few months—well, as much as any wolf could—but the hunger would always be there.

And I was beginning to doubt whether it could be restrained for much longer.

“It’s okay. I’m well acquainted with the need to lash out when people you care about are hurt.” Hell, I’d done it myself often enough.

Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I don’t care about them that way, if that’s what you’re implying. They were just good friends—people I could trust—and that’s rare in this cynical world of ours.”

“True.” I let my hand drop from his arm, but my fingers still tingled from the contact. I resisted the urge to clench them in an effort to retain the sensation for that little bit longer. My hormones didn’t need that sort of encouragement. “I think my next call of duty should be our local vampire master. Are you going to accompany Ivan to the hospital?”

“I’d better, at least until his family get there.”

“Keep me updated, then.”

“I will.” He touched my cheek lightly, briefly. “See you tomorrow.”

“You will.” I stepped away from the lure of his closeness, then turned and walked out the door. Once back in the darkness of the corridor, I said softly, “Hey, Sal, you got any information on one Vincent Castillo?”

“No details on either a Vinny or Vincent Castillo. If he’s the head of that little shindig over there, he’s kept himself under our radar.”

Which wasn’t to say that Jack didn’t know about him, just that there was nothing on record. “You want to ask the boss about it when you see him?”

“He’s not coming back in until tomorrow, but I’ll leave a note.”

“Thanks, Sal.”

“Don’t thank me, wolf girl. Thank the gods I’m feeling helpful right now.”

I grinned. No doubt she’d be her regular snarky self tomorrow, but that was okay. I don’t think I could handle too much of the super-efficient, super-pleasant Salliane.

I touched the com-link lightly, switching off voice but not tracking. It was doubtful the vampires would attack us now—if for no other reason than the fact they’d draw too much attention from the Directorate.

The vampires at the other end of the corridor still hadn’t moved. I strode toward them, noting for the first time the fact that all five seemed to have been turned around the same age. They all had that lanky, almost awkward look boys seemed to get in their late teens. They were all blonds, too.

I stopped in front of them and tried not to breathe too deeply. “I need to speak to Vinny Castillo.”

They glanced at one another, then one said, “Top floor. You’re expected.”

“Great.” Though I wasn’t sure it was.

I headed for the stairs and began to climb. The unwashed scent of vampire began to fade the farther I went up, so that by the time I reached the eighth floor, it had all but disappeared. In its place was a mix of blossom and pine that reminded me of springtime and made my nose twitch with the need to sneeze.

I stopped on the landing and looked around. Darkness haunted the corridor to the left, but the right was lit by a series of red candles in stylized, rose-shaped sconces. The flickering light danced warmly across the graffiti-strewn walls and gave the hallway an oddly forbidding feel. Given that Ivan still had power in his apartment, the candles were obviously for effect rather than a necessity.

At the far end of the corridor, a woman waited. Like the vampires on the floors below, she was young and gangly. But unlike them, her blond hair had been recently washed, and shone like pale gold in the flickering candlelight.

Two things were obvious—Vinny liked them young and blonde, and it didn’t seem to matter whether they were boys or girls.

I lowered a shield and reached out carefully, feeling psychically for those in the room beyond. I might as well have been trying to source out a big black hole. It didn’t feel like there were psychic deadeners involved, nor did it feel like any kind of natural psychic wall I’d ever encountered. It was just a hole. Or maybe it was more like a black star, because it seemed to suck away any sort of mental resonance.

Even the kid at the door wasn’t showing up on my psychic radar, though she didn’t look like an old enough vamp to block even a weak telepath.

Weird.

I strode toward the guard. Little emotion showed on her pale face or in her dark eyes, but her wariness stung the air. She was dressed casually—jeans, sneakers, and a pale pink tank top—but there was a suspicious-looking bulge on her right side. I wondered if the bullets were the regular kind, or if they’d just happened to have some silver ones hanging about.

“I’m Riley Jenson.” I stopped just in front of her and dragged out my badge. “I’d like to speak to Vinny Castillo, please.”

Something flickered through her eyes. Amusement, perhaps. “You’re expected.”

She opened the door, revealing a plush room that was nothing like the rest of the building. The graffiti was nowhere to be seen here. Instead, the walls were covered by thick velvet drapes in a dark, dramatic red. The carpet was thick and lush, and the color of rich sand. And there were chandeliers, for heaven’s sake—two big ones that sent rainbow-colored sprays of light scattering amongst the shadows. The rest of his gang might live in squalor, but old Vinny was living it up like a king.

I stepped inside. Saw the thickly stuffed black leather chairs and sensuous-looking chaise sofas before my gaze was drawn to the small circle of people at the far end of the room.

Half a dozen toga-clad boys and girls—I refused to call them anything else, because not one of them looked to be older than seventeen—stood around a mahogany-and-leather chaise lounge. Draped over it was a woman.

A woman who reeked of power and sensuality.

I stopped. I couldn’t help it. The force of this woman was unlike anything I’d ever come across. I knew vampires who were either close to, or older than, a thousand years, and neither of them had the immediate impact this woman had. And yet I doubted whether she was anywhere near their age.

Hell, I’d put money on the fact that she hadn’t even reached triple figures yet—if only because vampires with any sort of years behind them would surely be able to afford better accommodation for themselves and their get.

She wasn’t anything stunning to look at. I guess she could be classed as average—not pretty, not ugly, just normal. A medium-height, medium-built woman with dark brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes.

But in her case, looks didn’t matter. Her power lay in her essence. In her very nature.

Werewolves had auras that were totally capable of seducing anyone, willing or unwilling. We weren’t allowed to use it on any other race but our own, of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t occasionally happen. The energy she was putting out was similar to a werewolf’s aura. It was all heat and need and desire, and it spun around me sensually, making my pulse race. My body hunger.

The desire to run forward, to caress her pale skin as the others caressed it—lightly, reverently—hit like a wrecking ball. Sweat began to dot my skin, and the thirst to touch her, kiss her, make love to her, was so strong that I took a step forward.

But it wasn’t my desire, wasn’t real, and I wasn’t about to become some young vamp’s plaything. Especially not a young female vamp’s plaything. So I clenched my fists, digging my fingernails into my skin, using pain to overwhelm desire. In any other situation, I would have thrown up my own aura to battle hers—but I was standing in the middle of a den of vampires, and that might cause a whole lot more problems.

“Stop it,” I said, voice sharp, “or I’ll get the Directorate to do a sweep and clean out this whole damn place.”

She laughed, a sound as rich and as warm as the room, and the swirling heat of desire abated. Not completely, but enough that it was ignorable. “I have no wish to antagonize the Directorate. Please, step forward, so that I can see you better.”

I felt like saying that, as a vamp, she should be able to see me perfectly fine just where I was, but that could have been seen as churlish. Which I certainly could be on more than a few occasions, but I had a feeling that this was one of those times when it was better to play along.

At least until I got the feel of things.

I walked forward. The scent of blossom and springtime got stronger, mixing warmly with the heavy scent of desire still stirring the air. The toga-clad teenagers watched me with almost languorous expressions, but their pupils were extremely dilated. I would have guessed they were high on something, except for the fact that they were extremely still.

My gaze went to the woman. Maybe the only drug they needed was closeness to their maker. Maybe touching her was akin to a sexual or drug high. Just because I’d never heard of a vampire capable of getting someone off on the merest contact didn’t mean they weren’t out there. And hell, this woman had made me want her. If skin-to-skin contact with her was as powerful as her aura, then their expressions were understandable.

I stopped when there was still a good ten feet between us. This close, her skin looked almost luminous, as if the richness of the moon itself glowed from deep within her…I blinked. Reapplied my nails to the palm of my hand. Saw that her pale skin was just that. Pale skin. Nothing luminous and beautiful about it at all.

Anger swirled through me. As a werewolf, I’d been taught restraint almost from the beginning. Oh, not sexual restraint, because to a werewolf, sex was life. But the aura was a different matter. From the time I’d been a pup, long before my aura had even begun to develop, we’d learned that it was wrong to force another—both morally and legally. The fact that a werewolf’s aura could make the unwilling willing didn’t make it okay, because the end result was the same—you were forcing an action on someone he might not have taken otherwise.

Of course, I had done it, as a guardian, just to gain some advantage over a foe. But I’d never done it to force sex on someone otherwise.

This woman had been taught no such restraint.

“I did warn you to stop it.” I turned on my heel and walked toward the door.

She laughed again, a sound that shivered warmly up my spine. “Please, I’ll behave. You have questions about Ivan Lang, no?”

I turned around again. “Yes.”

“Then I will answer them. But please, come closer. I had a degenerative eye disease before I was turned and, as a result, my eyesight is not good.”

I studied her for a moment, seeing no lie in her brown eyes, and not sure if I would even if she were. “What is your real name?”

“Vincenta Castillo. Please, I assure you I will not play games with you again. Come closer.”

I hesitated, then did. Odd to think that this woman had me wanting to run, and yet I’d faced things a thousand times stronger, and far more dangerous. Hell, I had a permanent reminder of one such encounter on my left hand, which was now missing a pinky finger thanks to the hunger of a death god.

She smiled. It was just an ordinary smile, which meant she was keeping her word. For the moment, at least.

“If Ivan has taken the ceremony to become a vampire, why didn’t you protect him?”

“Because I was paid not to interfere in any way.”

Surprise ran through me. “You took money over protecting your get?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Look around you, guardian. These premises are more suitable for street scum than an upwardly mobile vampire. But I am young in vampire terms, and therefore have not yet accumulated the sort of money I require.”

Meaning she was earning her cash legally? Somehow, I doubted it. A vamp with the sort of seduction skills she had could entice all manner of things out of her bed partners.

“So you were just going to sit back and let a rogue vamp kill Ivan?”

She gave an unladylike snort. The toga-clad kid nearest her shoulder trailed his fingers up her neck and across her cheek, in what I supposed was a soothing gesture. “He’s not dead, is he?”

“Which comes down to luck as much as timely intervention on my part.”

She smiled. It was both amused and calculated, and warned that there was a sharp mind behind all the sexual playfulness. “Ah, but your timely intervention wouldn’t have happened had we not made a phone call.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d been paid not to intervene?”

“The operative word being ‘me.’ While he asked that I keep my fledglings back and control their hunger, he made no mention of them interfering with proceedings in other ways. So one made the call.”

“One who sounded like Ivan himself?”

She nodded. “We knew about the stripper. He has been here several times to visit Ivan. He is a big man, a strong man. His presence might have been enough to scare off the rogue.”

It might not have been, too. While Ben was a big werewolf, the rogue was a vamp, and vamps would win over regular weres each and every time. It wasn’t just strength, it was speed.

“So did the rogue say why he wanted to slice and dice Ivan?”

She shrugged. “I tasted the need for revenge on him. More than that, I don’t know.”

“So you didn’t ask?”

“It was a large amount of money. Not asking questions was part of the deal.”

So was not offering Ivan help in any way, but she’d gotten around that little clause just fine.

“Why did you perform the ceremony with Ivan?” My gaze went briefly to the toga-clad teenagers behind her. “He’s nothing like the rest of your get.”

“As much as I love my toys, a vampire cannot exist on them alone. Ivan is a very good investment advisor. That will be useful in the future.”

“If he’s such a good investment advisor, why is he living here?”

She smiled again. Deep in her brown eyes, hunger flickered. Not blood hunger, but rather a hunger for money. Or power, which often came hand in hand with money in this wealth-oriented world of ours. She might not be a force in the vampire world just yet, but she certainly intended to be. And I had a feeling she wouldn’t particularly care how she went about it.

But couldn’t that be said of all vampires? Most of them couldn’t ever be classed as the caring, sharing types.

“Simple,” she answered. “He tithed me his apartment in Brighton as payment for the ceremony. He has enough money to live elsewhere, of course, but he remains close because his death is imminent. His choice, not mine.”

“So if you hate this place so much, why not move in to his apartment?”

She raised dark eyebrows. “It’s a simple matter of logistics. We are forty strong here, and that number simply will not fit into a two-bedroom apartment, no matter how luxurious.”

“Isn’t that a large number of vampires to have living together? And whatever happened to that whole ‘vampires are territorial creatures and don’t share’ line I keep hearing?”

She smiled again. “Blood vampires are territorial. We are not of a bloodline. For us, the bigger the community, the better. Community nourishes us.”

“So those who haunt the downstairs rooms are fed by the goings-on up here?”

“Something like that.”

“So it wasn’t the bloodshed that was stirring their hunger, but rather the emotions being broadcast?”

“Yes.”

She shifted, placing her feet on the floor and sitting up straight. The teenagers behind her gathered together, so that their bodies were pressed tightly against one another. The contact sent an odd sort of humming flaring across the air. It didn’t feel like the aura of their master, and yet it possessed a similar sense of power. Although maybe it didn’t feel the same because it wasn’t actually aimed at me. Maybe it would seem similar if it had been.

Either way, goose bumps skittered across my skin. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t want to be here when feedings were happening.

But as much as I wanted to just get the hell away from this place as fast as I could, there was still a question that needed to be asked.

“Did the rogue vampire happen to mention his name?”

She smiled again. “I was wondering when you’d get around to asking that.”

“Meaning yes, he did?”

“Of course. No one gets through my door without me first knowing their name.”

“Then would you mind telling me it?”

Amusement played about her lips. “What are you going to offer in exchange?”

I looked at her for a moment, then said, “How about I not call the Directorate on you?”

“You’ve already reported our presence. There’s another guardian patrolling outside, isn’t there?”

“He’s there to catch Ivan’s attacker, should he decide to come back.”

She waved a hand. “But the Directorate will come to investigate us regardless.”

“They will. But investigating is not cleaning out.”

“You would not ask them to go that far. You are not the type.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Lady, you have no idea what type I am.”

“I can taste it in the air, little wolf.” She considered me a moment, then smiled. “You are honorable, in your own way. And at the moment, you are also very wary of what you sense in this room.”

Mainly because what I sensed in this room was nothing like anything I’d come across before. “I can’t pay you.”

“I’m not asking for money.”

“Then what are you asking for?”

“A kiss. Just a simple kiss.”

There was nothing simple about a kiss. Not when it involved this vampire. “Why?”

“Because I want to taste you.”

“I thought you weren’t a blood vampire.”

She rose from the sofa, her long skirt billowing briefly around her in cloudlike wisps of bloodred organza. Surprisingly, she was my height and build. She’d seemed so much smaller and daintier on the chaise lounge—another carefully placed illusion, no doubt.

“I am not a blood vampire,” she said softly. “And I give nothing for free. If you wish the name, guardian, you pay with a kiss.”

I stared at her, wishing I could read her mind. Wishing I knew her motives. Wishing I understood why the whole kissing deal filled me with such indecision. Hell, if it were a man asking the payment, I’d be doing it in a second.

So was it just the thought of kissing a female that was making me hesitate? Or was it more to do with the fact that I didn’t know what she really was, or what she could do?

I’d love to say it was the latter rather than the former, but the truth was, I couldn’t.

I didn’t want to kiss another woman. It was as simple as that.

But I was a guardian, and sometimes guardians had to do things they really didn’t want to do. Especially if lives were on the line.

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “No feeding, no aura—or whatever that sexual heat thing of yours is. If I sense any of it, I’ll shoot the fucking lot of you.”

She smiled. “I think you mean that.”

I think I did, too. I flexed my fingers, feeling the dampness on my palms and not liking it. “And no tongue,” I added. “I’ll bite it if I feel it.”

She laughed, a warm merry sound that had lips twitching. Mine included. And that only made my wariness and need not to do this even stronger.

“One would think you’ve never kissed a woman before.”

“I haven’t.”

She raised an elegant eyebrow. “What, not even as a friendly gesture of hello?”

I could’ve pointed out that I wasn’t the social, friendly type, but I wasn’t about to give her that much information. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“As you wish.”

She stepped closer. My nostrils flared, sucking in her scent, tasting flowers and springtime and something else, something I couldn’t quite define. Something that felt dangerous and exciting all at the same time.

She stopped so close that her wispy gown swirled around my legs, encasing them in a sea of red. I clenched my fingers, fighting the desire to step back, to escape the heat and feel of her, and watched her face. Watching the anticipation in her brown eyes grow as she drew closer.

Then her lips brushed mine. Tentatively, gently. They were surprisingly cool and soft, and not unpleasant, however much I wanted them to be. I didn’t react, holding myself still, not wanting to prolong the contact.

She opened her eyes, stared deep into mine. “A kiss takes two people, guardian. React, or the payment will not be accepted.”

Her lips touched mine again, and after a moment of hesitation, I moved into them, kissing her gently but thoroughly. It was a strange kiss, a passionless kiss, and yet it was a kiss that had my nerves tingling and pulse racing. It wasn’t desire. It was fear of the unknown.

I had a bad, bad feeling that more than just lip-tasting was going on.

I pulled away, felt the coolness of the room caress my skin, washing away the heat of her. She smiled, and flicked her skirts away from my legs. “You do not taste like a wolf, guardian.”

“You got your kiss, vampire. I want my name.”

She considered me for a moment, then said, “Aron Young.”

“Got that,” Sal said into my ear. “Instigating search.”

“Thank you,” I said, more to Sal than Vinny. I stepped back again, relishing the distance each step was giving me. “If he happens to return, Vincenta, please call the Directorate straightaway.”

“I will. I’d hate to have the force of the mighty Directorate brought down on me.” Her voice gently mocked. “I will see you again, guardian.”

No, you fucking won’t, I thought, and got the hell out of there.

Rhoan still hadn’t arrived back home when I woke the following morning. I picked up the storm of clothes that were still scattered everywhere, dumping them all back into their various baskets, then made myself a coffee and some breakfast and turned on the TV to see if I could catch a glimpse of him and Liander on the entertainment channels.

I didn’t, but they walked in the door about ten minutes later, arms around each other, both of them half undressed and looking more than a little worse for the wear.

“You two,” I said, around a mouthful of cereal, “look like shit.”

Liander waved a hand and gave me a silly grin. “But we’re feeling fine.”

He tripped over the end of the rug as he said it, and would have fallen flat on his face if Rhoan hadn’t hauled him upright. Though that effort caused the two of them to stagger sideways, missing the coat stand by the merest of inches. I snorted. Drunk as skunks, the pair of them.

I dumped my cereal on the coffee table, then got up and walked to the kitchen to flick on the kettle. “I gather last night went well?”

“Very. The effects are a hit.”

Leather groaned as the two of them fell more than sat on the sofa.

“What about the movie itself?”

“You know what the movie business is like. Some will rave, some will tear it apart, some will equivocate.” Liander waved a hand about airily, then leaned into Rhoan’s arm. “The effects looked gorgeous, and that’s all I was worried about.”

Rhoan gave him a hug, then looked at me. “So how did you fill in the evening while we were out partying?”

Of the two of them, he looked slightly less pickled. Though at least both of them could talk without slurring their sentences. I leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and smiled. “I went out and kissed a girl.”

They both blinked owlishly at me for a moment, then Rhoan said, “What?”

I didn’t answer straightaway, making them coffee first, then sitting back down and reclaiming my breakfast. “The girl was a vamp who wasn’t a bloodsucker, and I kissed her to get the name of a rogue who was beating up an accountant.”

“So what was it like?” Liander asked. “Kissing a girl, I mean?”

“Not in the least bit arousing.” Which was the truth, and yet not the whole truth. I picked up my coffee and took a sip. The fact was, the caress of her lips had haunted a good part of my dreams, but the cause was trepidation rather than desire. Even my dreams had been filled with the certainty that something more than lip-locking had happened.

Rhoan untangled himself from Liander and leaned forward. “Why would you kiss a vamp to get information? Why didn’t you just read her mind or beat it out of her?”

I waved my spoon at him. “It’s not polite to run around beating up women.”

“It is when they’re vamps who could beat the shit out of most normal people.”

“We’re not normal people.” We weren’t even normal in the nonhuman sense of the word. According to Jack—who apparently kept an eye on such things—we were the rarest of the rare. Who’d have thought, after all those years of getting beaten up because we were half-breeds?

He waved the comment away. “They don’t know that. So why kiss her when you didn’t want to?” He hesitated a moment, then added with a cheeky grin, “Or did you?”

“I’m still hetero all the way, bro. Trust me on that.” I took a sip of coffee, then added, “I tried reading her mind, but it felt like falling into a black hole.”

“So why not use threats or force? If she’s withholding evidence, you’re entitled to.”

I shrugged. “Beating her up would have been an exercise in stupidity. She had forty of her get living with her and those sort of odds are a little overwhelming.”

“Forty?” He frowned. “How does any one vampire control that many fledglings? And how would they even manage to all live together?”

I finished off my cereal, then dumped the bowl back on the table and said, “She wasn’t a blood vamp, but rather some sort of emotional vampire. Apparently living together is a requirement for suckers who feed off emotion.”

“There’re vamps who feed off emotion?” Liander said. “That’s a somewhat horrific thought.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No worse than blood vamps, really.”

He snorted. “It’s hard to miss a blood vamp feeding off you. Bet the same couldn’t be said of an emotional vampire.”

He had a point. Especially if all emotional vamps had an aura as strong as Vinny’s.

“You reported their presence to Jack?” Rhoan asked.

“Yep.”

“Good.” He paused to sip his coffee. “So why were you even there rescuing this accountant? Did it have something to do with that phone call you got last night?”

I nodded and explained why Ben had rung, then added, “Which is why I kissed the vamp. To get the name before he attacks someone else.”

“So it’s not someone connected to this Ben fellow?” Liander asked.

“Ben doesn’t seem to think he’s the connection, but I haven’t talked to him since getting the name. Could turn out that he does know this Aron Young.”

Which wouldn’t be a good thing, because Young’s actions had earned him an execution order. Vamps involved in the torture of others didn’t live all that much longer than those actually killing—simply because one crime usually developed into the other anyway. And if Ben was a good friend, he’d come under Directorate scrutiny as well.

Liander frowned. “That name rings a bell.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know someone called Aron Young?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said it rings a bell.”

“I’m sure there’s more than one Aron Young out there,” Rhoan said dryly.

Liander sniffed. “Well, of course there is. I’m just saying the name seems familiar.”

“Well,” I said, grabbing my cup and bowl as I rose. “Let me know if you remember. Meanwhile, I’m heading into the Directorate. You want me to let Jack know you’re going to be late?”

“No need.” Rhoan’s voice was decidedly smug. “I’ve got the day off. Some of us do occasionally think ahead and prepare.”

“And this would have to be a first for you.”

He threw a cushion after me. It thudded into a wall, missing by miles. For some reason, it sent the two of them off into fits of laughter. I shook my head and left them to it.

Thankfully, the car had survived the night without additional decoration from the local goons. I threw my gear in, clipped my cell phone onto its hands-free holder, then pulled into the traffic and headed to work.

The phone rang well before I got there and my heart sunk. The number said it was either Jack or Sal, and a call at this hour from either one could never be a good thing.

I pressed the receive button and said, “You know I can’t stomach bad news before I’ve had my second cup of coffee.”

“Well, ain’t that just too bad,” Jack said, sounding tired and just a little frustrated, “because I’ve got another one for you.”

I slowed the car as the lights ahead turned to red. “I take it you mean another dead naked politician flashing his butt to the world?”

“Not quite. This one is a naked shoe-store owner flashing his butt to all and sundry.”

That raised my eyebrows. “Human or nonhuman?”

“Non. Werefox, to be exact.”

The killer wasn’t restricting himself to any one race, then. “Where was he found?”

“In his store, by his employee. Apparently the dead man and a friend were getting hot and happy in the store window, and that’s where he died.”

So we had a killer who liked to do the deed in exposed spots, and who obviously had no qualms about being seen. Either that, or it added to the thrill. “Let me guess—his friend is nowhere to be found again?”

“Spot on.”

“So why are you so sure it’s connected? Beside the fact that our killer is something of an exhibitionist?”

“A feeling, nothing more.”

And I’d put money on Jack’s feelings over most people’s certainties any day.

“Kade’s heading there now,” he continued. “I want you there ASAP to see if you can sense anything.”

“I didn’t sense anything useful at James’s office.” And if my job at the Directorate started to be nothing more than visiting murder scenes to try and sense departing souls, then I’d rather quit.

Which was quite a statement, considering I never actually wanted to be a guardian in the first place.

“Still worth trying. I’ll send you the address.” He paused, and in the background I heard paper rustling. “We checked out that nest you found last night, too.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That was fast.”

“Emo vamps can be quite dangerous. We had to assess the situation.”

“So they really do feed on emotions rather than blood?”

“Yes. And they have the ability—and the tendency—to amp up emotions. In certain situations, that can get extremely dangerous.”

“This one seems to feed off sexual energy.”

“Sexual emotions tend to be the rawest, and therefore more satisfying to emo vamps, but they’ll make do with lesser emotions like fear, anger, and pain when they have to.”

Which is why there’d been such a strong sense of hunger in the building when I’d walked in—they’d been feeding off what was happening in Ivan’s apartment.

And I wouldn’t have been surprised if that had been part of the reasoning behind Vinny allowing the vampire to visit Ivan.

“What’s your impression of Vincenta Castillo?” Jack asked.

I hesitated. “She’s one to watch. I think she has great plans for herself and her fledglings, but I don’t think she’s done anything to cross the line just yet.”

“Interesting.”

His voice was dry, and my eyebrows rose again. “Why?”

“Because our inspector gave a glowing report.”

I grinned. “Was he young and blond?”

Jack paused. “Young, yes. Blond, no.”

“She razzle-dazzled him, boss. He wouldn’t have known what side of his pen was up when he was taking notes.”

“Young Clark has strong shields. Even an emo vamp shouldn’t have been able to affect him.”

“I’ve got strong shields, and I felt her pull.”

“Then we’ll keep an eye on her, for sure. Have you written up a report about last night?”

“Nope. I was intending to do it when I got in this morning. Did Sal get anything on Aron Young?”

“We found three. We’re still trying to get a current address on two of them.”

“At least there’s not hundreds to investigate.”

“True.” He paused for a moment. In the background, someone was murmuring. Paper moved, then he added, “Sal mentioned you were investigating some BDSM case?”

Meaning Sal had listened in on my phone call—there was no other way she could have known, because I hadn’t yet written the report. “It’s related to last night’s case—same vampire.”

I wasn’t a hundred percent positive of that, of course, but I wasn’t about to let Jack know that.

“I’ll hunt up the police report on it for you, and hurry the search on Young. If this is the start of a murder run, we’ll need to get onto it straightaway.”

“Could you also get a check done on a Ben Wilson? He’s a black wolf who manages the Nonpareil stripper business. As far as I can see, he’s the only real link between the two men.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, boss.” I hung up, then changed lanes and headed over to South Yarra and the address Jack had given me—which just happened to be in the heart of trendy Chapel Street.

Obviously, whoever was killing off these people had a taste for power and money. And perhaps a need for the high that exhibitionism could give. Which in itself would suggest some sort of were. While the danger of public sexual acts—and the high such risks gave—was not the sole province of weres, we weres were certainly willing to take it further than most races.

It was impossible to find parking near the shoe shop in Chapel Street, so I parked in nearby Garden Street. And made sure an “Official Directorate Vehicle” sign was visible through the front window, just in case the parking inspectors got a little trigger-happy with their ticket machines.

I pocketed my keys and headed back to Chapel Street. The shoe shop was easy enough to spot—it was the one with the cop cars out front and the black plastic sheeting over the windows.

Kade was nowhere to be seen, so I ducked under the tape, showed my badge to the patrol cop, and headed in. And discovered Chapel Street shoe shops weren’t like ordinary shoe shops. For a start, the shoes were well spaced rather than crammed together in soldier-like rows. Then there were spotlights over the display racks, high-back comfy chairs, and plush carpets.

And a dead naked guy in the front window.

His thick thatch of red hair was the first thing I noticed. He was leaning over a waist-high shoe display, his butt facing the window, arms and head flopping down the back of the metal stand, with pretty-colored stilettos and boots scattered all around his feet.

“Puts a new spin on eye-catching window displays, doesn’t it?” Cole said, stripping off bloodied gloves as he stepped out of the window.

I frowned at him. “Whose blood?”

“His. Seems our killer got a little heavy-handed with the scratches this time.” He nodded toward the victim’s torso. “Got scratches on his chest, genitals, and legs.”

“What type of scratches?”

“A cat of some kind. She’s a big one, though.”

“How big is big?”

“Twice the size of a regular cat, at least.”

“So are we looking for something the size of a puma or something more like a tiger?”

“Something the size of a tiger, at least.”

I stepped closer. The metallic tang of blood perfumed the air, as did the scents of sweat and sex. But underneath those were notes of jasmine and orange. The same scents that had been evident in Gerard James’s office.

My gaze ran from the dead man’s neck to his back and down his legs. There were scratches scattered across his pale flesh—big, thick, ugly scratches that had taken more than a little skin with them.

“It can’t be the same cat that scratched James,” I said, glancing around at Cole. “This one has massive paws.”

“I think it is, but I won’t know that until I do some DNA tests.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You found more than the victim’s DNA this time?”

“Found it last time, too. I’m hoping the saliva found on James’s cock will match that found on this man.”

“And that’s the only DNA of our mysterious lady friend that you’ve found?”

“Nope. And it appears our murderess is in heat.”

That raised my eyebrows. “Then why would she be killing her mates? That’s more a spider habit than cat, isn’t it?”

He smiled. It was a nice smile, a smile that lit up his whole face. “Maybe they really disappointed her.”

“Then let’s hope her future dates have brushed up on their technique a bit more.” Or that we caught her before those dates happened. The violence in her attacks seemed to be escalating, and I really didn’t want to imagine what she might do to the next man. “We’ve got a witness this time?”

“Henry Rollins is the gentleman who found him. He’s waiting in the back storeroom, if you’d like to talk to him. There’s also another potential witness, but it might be best to let Kade deal with him.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”

“He’s as drunk as a skunk and smells like vomit.” His gaze met mine, blue eyes twinkling. “And we all know what a delicate little nose you have.”

“Thanks. I think.”

I turned and headed for the back of the store, but had gone only three or four steps when Kade finally arrived. I didn’t have to actually see him to know he was there—his sheer, masculine scent overwhelmed just about everyone else in the room.

“About fucking time you turned up,” I said mildly, over my shoulder.

“Hey, I had to stop for coffee.”

“For everyone, I hope,” Cole commented.

“I didn’t think you boys were allowed to drink on the job. In case of spillage, etcetera.”

I pointed an imperious finger and tried to be stern, despite the smile teasing my lips. “If you didn’t bring us coffee, you can just go out on the sidewalk and interview the witness the cops are holding.”

“Geez, is bossiness inbred in wolves or something?”

“Yes,” Cole and I said together, then shared a grin. I have to say, I was liking this relaxed version of Cole a whole lot more than the sourpuss I’d first been introduced to months ago. Although maybe he was opening up more because we had gotten to know each other a bit better through our on-the-job sparring.

I continued on into the back storerooms. There had to be a small kitchen in the back somewhere, because I could smell coffee. And it wasn’t top-shelf stuff, if that smell was anything to go by. Either that, or the percolator needed a good cleaning.

But underneath that almost burned aroma, other scents ran. Leather and man and, softer still, orange and jasmine.

And underneath them all, a scent that made my wolf soul twitch.

Cat.

It was faint, but it was there. Our murderess had definitely come this way, though the scent wasn’t strong enough to suggest she was still here.

I came across the cop first—a tall man with blond hair leaning casually on one of the shelves. He straightened when I approached. “Directorate?”

I nodded, looking past him as I showed him my badge. Rollins was huddled on a kitchen chair, pale hands wrapped around a coffee mug. “Has Mr. Rollins said anything?”

The cop shook his head. “I just gave him a coffee to calm his nerves.”

“Thanks.” I slipped past him and walked over to Rollins. He didn’t react, so I squatted down in front of him. “Mr. Rollins? I’m afraid I need to ask you some questions.”

He looked up, brown eyes haunted. “I saw her, you know.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You saw the woman who killed your boss?”

“Well, she was with him in the front window when I arrived, so yeah, I presume it was her that murdered Frank.”

“Did she see you?”

He snorted. “Hell, yes. She paused and waved at me. There was blood smeared all over her hands and skin.”

“She was naked, then?”

He nodded.

Not only a killer, but a brazen one, who seemingly didn’t have any fears about getting caught. “Where were you?”

“Sorta standing in the middle of the road, a little shocked. I mean, it’s not every day you see your boss and a babe making out in the window.”

No, I guess not. “Were you the only one watching?”

“There was a drunk.” He shrugged. “Most of the traffic kept zipping by. One of them almost ran me over. People in cars generally don’t take much notice of what’s going on around them.”

And if they had glimpsed the naked woman, would they actually have believed it? Or would they have thought it a mannequin? “What happened then?”

“She jumped out of the display area and I presume she walked to the back of the shop. There were no lights on in the store, so I couldn’t be sure, but she certainly didn’t come out the front.”

“Did you enter the shop?”

He shook his head. “I called the cops, and waited out the front. If she could kill Frank—and he wasn’t responding to me banging on the window, so I had to presume he was dead—I wasn’t taking the chance of confronting her alone. I mean, I’m half Frank’s size.”

Wise man. I waited while he took a sip of coffee, then asked, “Is there another exit besides the front door?”

He shook his head. “Only the window above us.”

I looked up. The window in question was maybe one foot square in diameter, and wouldn’t have been large enough for a woman or a cat the size of a tiger to get through. But the latch was undone and the woman had gone, so this had to be her exit point.

Which meant we had a shifter who could actually alter the size of her beast. Interesting.

“Did you see her well enough to give us a description of her?”

He nodded. “She was tall and willowy, with large breasts and a lush mouth. Blondish hair, long fingers.”

I raised my eyebrows again. “Long fingers?”

“I’m a pianist. I notice hands.” He hesitated. “I’m sure she lives around here somewhere. I’ve seen her on the street a few times.”

“But you don’t know her name?”

“No. Sorry.”

I squeezed his hand then rose. “There’ll be another Directorate officer in here in a moment or so to take a full statement and work up an image ID, then we’ll send you home.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

I left him to his coffee and walked back into the main shop area. Cole looked up as I entered. “Anything useful?”

“He saw the killer, so we’ll need a full statement.”

“Does his description match that of the woman James was last seen with?”

“Only in that they both had blond hair.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “It’ll be interesting to see what the DNA comes up with then, because the MO is the same for both murders.”

“Except for the amount of bloodshed and the size of the scratches.” I walked over to the victim and squatted down, studying his neck. Like Gerard James, this man had three small scratches near the pulse point of his neck. But why—especially given that larger claws had been used on the rest of his body? I shifted a little, and saw the lipstick smear across his lips. It was the color of dried blood—not a very nice shade. “If it is the same woman, do you think we’re dealing with someone who can change the size of her animal?”

Cole raised his eyebrows. “It’d be rare.”

“But there are wolves who can alter their human forms, so why couldn’t there be shifters who can alter their animal one?”

“I don’t know. I’ll do a search and see if I can come up with anything.”

“Good.” I rose. “I think she escaped through a back window. I’m going to go around the back and see if I can catch a scent to track.”

Cole nodded, obviously not paying a whole lot of attention as he picked up a hair and carefully placed it in a bag.

I walked out the front and looked around until I found Kade, then walked over. I could smell the drunk before I got anywhere near them, and his unwashed, sour puke aroma had me stopping several yards away. Kade glanced over his shoulder, wrinkled his nose and made a face, then continued his interview for another few minutes.

“Well,” he said, when he finally joined me. “That was interesting.”

“Interesting because he had lots of information, or because he smelled like something the cat chucked up?”

He smiled. “Both, actually. Our killer is apparently into spanking—and he swears that while she was human, one of her hands was that of a large cat.”

“Which would at least explain all the blood and claw marks.” I touched his arm, tried to ignore the urge to caress his warm, bay skin, and added, “She apparently escaped through the back window. I’m going to try and track the scent.”

His steps matched mine as we headed for the small lane at the end of the group of shops. “He also said that near the end of the session, she seemed to be doing this weird sucking thing to his mouth, and that he suddenly seemed in great pain.”

I raised an eyebrow, amusement twitching my mouth as I glanced up at him. “Maybe she bit his tongue.”

“He seemed to imply it was more ‘oh my God I’m going to die’–type pain, but then, he’s as drunk as a skunk, so who knows what he was really seeing.” He took a mouthful of coffee, then tossed the container into the trash. “There are Japanese legends about soul-stealers—you think we could be dealing with something like that?”

“It would certainly explain why there’s no souls hanging about afterward.” Shadows closed in around us as we moved into the laneway. “But in the Japanese legends, the soul-stealers are foxes, aren’t they?”

He shrugged. “There’s no reason why there can’t be soul-stealing cats, as well.”

“True.” It was certainly an idea worth chasing.

The ripe scent of rubbish left a little too long in the sun began to flavor the air, jostling for prominence with the sweet scent of the yellow roses climbing the fence that divided the lane from the house next door.

Kade stepped over a puddle, then asked, “You get anything useful from inside?”

“Cole thinks it’s the same woman and that she’s in heat, but the description our other witness gave us doesn’t really match the woman Gerard James was apparently last seen with.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. She could have been wearing a wig, colored contacts, or anything like that. My witness certainly didn’t get close enough to pick up those things.”

“Mine, neither.”

“Did he have small scratches on the side of his neck, like James did?”

I nodded and stepped over another brackish-looking puddle. “Same place, same size.”

“Then that’s our constant. For whatever reasons, she’s marking her victims.”

“But is she doing it before, or after? You know, for all the blood in this murder, there didn’t seem to be any blood related to those scratches. Yet they were open, un-healed wounds.”

“Maybe it’s some weird way of testing them before she kills them.” He shrugged. “We won’t know for sure until we catch the bitch.”

“Cats are queens. Only dogs are bitches.”

He snorted softly. “She takes female humanoid form, so therefore the bitch tag can apply. Trust me, I live with a household of them.”

I grinned. “And here was me having the image of you all being one big happy family.”

“Oh, we are. But where a group of females gather, bitching can be found. I’m sure it’s part of female DNA, just like the ability to sniff out chocolate wherever it may be hidden.”

“You could be right.” We reached the end of the shops and moved into the lane behind them. There were several cars crammed into the small space, leaving barely enough room between them and the brickwork to get through. None of the shops had rear entrances, which I would have thought would be against fire regulations. Even heritage-listed shops—which I didn’t think these were—had to have a fire exit. Maybe the owner was paying someone under the table to get away with not installing them.

I stopped at the shoe shop window and looked up. The sun hadn’t yet hit this wall, and the bricks were still damp from the early-morning dew. Small paw marks were visible, sliding through the wetness partway down the wall before disappearing.

“She definitely came this way,” Kade commented, then glanced at me. “You think you can track her?”

“We’ll soon see.” I stripped off my jacket and sweater, handing them to him before calling to the magic deep in my soul.

Energy swept around me, through me, changing me into the form that had found me at puberty. The form that was a part of me in ways the seagull shape—no matter how comfortable I ended up being with it—never would be.

To my wolf nose, the world came alive with a myriad of scents and sounds. I trotted forward, loving the feel of cold dampness under my paws and the play of sunlight across my fur. The texture of the air was thick and rich, and after sorting through all the different and delicious aromas, I found the one I wanted.

Cat.

But it was mixed with the scents of orange, jasmine, and humanity. She’d fled in human form, not cat. Which was odd, because her feline form would have been less noticeable.

But it made her trail easier to follow.

Nose to the ground and tail held high, I followed, padding between the cars and out into the main lane. With Kade’s shadow looming over me and his thick, rich scent teasing my senses, I ran back down the lane, leaping the puddle before moving out onto the main street.

The scent swirled, as if my quarry had waited and watched proceedings for a while before moving on. I ran down the street, following the trail over a road, past several more houses, then left into another street. The scent finally led into one of the houses.

I stopped at the gate and waited for Kade to catch up. The house was a small, brick affair that probably cost a fortune despite the fact it didn’t look wide enough to hold anything more than a small bedroom and a hallway. The front yard was almost nonexistent, but nicely kept, filled with sweet-smelling roses and abundant lavender bushes.

I looked around as Kade approached, then hit the gate with my paw. He opened it without comment, and together we headed up the steps to the front door. The scent of cat became stronger, but mingled with it was the metallic tang of blood and new death.

Not again, I thought, and shifted back to human form. Without saying anything, I motioned Kade around to the side of the house, then held up two fingers. He nodded and leapt the side fence, disappearing quickly and quietly. I glanced at my watch, waited the two minutes, then slammed a shoulder against the front door. It might have had locks, but they didn’t stand a chance against a determined werewolf. The door crashed back against the wall, denting plaster and sending dust flying.

“Directorate,” I yelled, “come out with your hands up.”