Deadly Desire (29 page)

“If anything interesting happens, I'll give you a call.”

“You haven't got my number.” And he wasn't going to get it, either.

He smiled. It was the sort of smile that suggested getting information like that wasn't a problem. And for someone like him, it probably wasn't. Hell, he'd probably already snatched it in his sneaky mind raids.

And
how
he did that, when I supposedly had shields strong enough to keep out the likes of Quinn and Jack—who were the strongest telepaths I'd ever met—is one of the many things I wanted to know. But not now, when I was so bone tired.

“Good night, Kye.”

“Don't let the vampires bite.”

“Why shouldn't I?” I countered sweetly, “when that only adds to the overall pleasure? And trust me, it
is
pleasurable.”

He didn't say anything, but there was a fierceness in his eyes that made something deep inside tremble. I
had an odd feeling I'd just flung a challenge his way, and I was going to regret it.

Or worse still,
not
regret it.

I hitched my bag up onto my shoulder and walked away before I got myself into deeper trouble.

Getting a taxi when I looked like something the dog had thrown up proved to be problematic. So was flying home clutching a bag filled with clothes, holy water, and a great big silver knife. Which meant I ended up walking—not fun, and a pretty crappy way to end the night.

I slept the sleep of the dead when I got home, and it was well after three by the time I dragged myself back to the land of the living.

The apartment was quiet, but the scent of coffee lingered in the air, tantalizing my taste buds. Hoping Liander had left the percolator on for me, I flung the blankets off and climbed out of bed. My hip twinged a reminder to be careful, and I glanced down. Three pink scars stretched from the top of my hip to my thigh—a stark reminder of just how close I'd come to death again last night. One of these days, my luck was going to change.

I shivered and thrust the thought away as I walked into the kitchen. The coffee was still warm, and I breathed deep, sucking in the delicious scent, feeling it flow down through my body, waking and revitalizing.

Coffee on call, without having to wait for the kettle to boil, had to be one of life's greatest pleasures. Of all the good things Liander had brought to our lives, the coffeemaker had to be among the best of them.

I poured myself a cup, then splashed in some milk, taking several sips before I shoved some bread in the toaster. My cell phone rang, and I knew without doubt it would be Jack. He always seemed to pick the worst possible moments to call with an update.

I walked into the living room, dug my phone out of my bag, and hit the receive button.

“I was going to call in a report right after I had a coffee, boss,” I said.

“I'm not ringing for a report,” he said, voice flat and annoyed.

Which couldn't mean that anything good had happened.

“Then what's the problem?”

“We've got ourselves another dead vampire, and this time it's really bad.”

thought you were going to bring in the teenager with the birthmark to stop her being used,” I said, voice sharp.

“We did. And we tracked down the five vamps who I know like body imperfections. This isn't one of them. I think it was a last-minute deal.”

Or an outpouring of anger that the sorcerer's plans had been frustrated.

“So how much worse than decapitation and body parts being hacked away can it be?” I said, half wishing I'd stayed in bed and
not
answered the phone.

“Lots, from what Cole is saying. He's there now. I want you to head over and see if you can feel anything.”

“I haven't felt any souls up to now, so why do you think I'd feel one at this murder?”

“Because this time, they killed the woman who was
with him. She was human, and
she
just might be confused enough about her death to still be there.”

“We don't know that both women are involved in the vamp killings. You'd think Cole would have found some evidence of wheelchair use in at least one of the murder scenes by now.”

“Not if she was using her crow form.”

“The worst a crow could do is peck someone to death.”

“When we're talking about sorcerers, anything is possible.”

I guess that was true. “It'll take me fifteen minutes to get ready.”

“I want you there by four,” he said, and hung up.

I glanced at my watch. He'd given me a whole twenty-five minutes. How generous of him. I downed my coffee then headed for the bathroom.

Although I got ready in record time, it still took me thirty-five minutes to get through the city traffic to Brighton.

Cole glanced around as I walked into the third-floor apartment, then made a show of looking at his watch. “You're late.”

“Bite me,” I muttered, in no mood for frivolities right now. The metallic tang of blood was thick in the air, but it was the reek of magic that turned my stomach. It was so strong my skin crawled against the sensation. “So who did they kill this time?”

“Our vamp is one Jason Burke. He's got a reputation as a philanderer, and has only just moved down here from Queensland. Apparently things were getting a little
heated up there for him.” Cole paused and smiled. “From what I heard, there were several husbands armed with sharpened sticks coming after him.”

I didn't smile. I didn't have the energy. “Where are the victims?”

“In the bedroom.”

Which was where the other victims had been caught, even if they hadn't all been killed there. At least there was one constant. “What time were they killed?”

“Approximately eleven last night.”

Jessica had been in the club giving me the evil eye at that time, so she couldn't have been involved, no matter what Jack might think. “Any reason why Jack would say that these murders are worse than before?”

Cole snorted. “Because they
are.
They look as if they've been torn apart by dogs, although the tear marks don't actually match any dogs that I know of.”

“Not even hellhounds?”

“Haven't had a whole lot of experience with them, but it seems to me they don't actually leave pieces. They consume it all.”

“They seem to. And the woman who controls the hellhounds was at the club at the time of the murders.”

“Doesn't mean she couldn't have sent her beasties here.”

“Or that the other sorceress couldn't have raised her own little beasties.”

“True.” Cole's gaze was still on me, still intent. Although he couldn't see the injuries I'd received last night, I had an odd sense he knew about them anyway. A suspicion he confirmed by asking, “Are you okay?”

“Had a brush with said beasties last night. They're now ash blowing on the wind.” I gave him a lopsided smile. “But I actually think it's the late-night working. It's done me in more than the hellhounds' efforts. I'll be glad when this job is over.”

“Yeah, irregular working hours can be a bitch.” He waved a hand toward the bedroom. “Dobbs and Dusty are in there at the moment. That's not going to interfere with your psychic radar, is it?”

I shook my head and grabbed a pair of plastic shoe covers from the little box on the table. I'd need them if this murder was as bad as everyone was saying. “Do we know who the other victim is yet?”

“Denita Lowe,” Cole said, carefully picking up a hair and placing it into a plastic bag. “A forty-six-year-old woman with a hubby and two kids.”

So Burke had continued his philandering ways despite his trouble up in Queensland. “The husband been told yet?”

Cole shook his head. “I think Jack is waiting until we find enough of her to get an official ID.”

I frowned. “If you haven't got enough, how do you know who she is?”

“Purse over by the door.”

“Oh.” Of course. I turned and headed for the bedroom. There was no use delaying it any longer. Besides, I had to report to the club in an hour.

The intense sensation of vile magic hit the minute I walked into the room. It was stronger here than at the previous murder scenes, but maybe that was because the crime was fresher, too. But there was another scent
that mingled with the feel of magic—the faint whiff of roses.

Hanna Mein's scent, not Jessica's.

The room itself was a mess. It might once have been painted a very pale blue, but you'd hardly know it. Blood had been smeared from one end of the room to the other, and larger chunks of flesh and bone dribbled off just about everything—the beds, the lamps, the ceiling lights, even the painting frames. It was in such a state that it was hard to tell which bit was male and which was female.

Bile rose and goose bumps prickled my skin. I might be a guardian, but scenes of gore and guts like this were not something I was used to yet. And I hope I never did get used to them. Hoped I would never be blasé about useless, wanton destruction of life.

I rubbed my arms, half wishing I'd grabbed my coat out of the car, then stopped as power began to caress the air and an odd tingle raced across my skin.

There was a soul here.

I looked around the room, but for several minutes saw nothing remotely “otherworldly.” Yet the ever-sharpening tingle of energy told me something waited.

Then a faint wisp of white appeared in the far corner of the room. It was little more than a curl of smoke, barely visible in the sharp sunlight pouring through the window. Certainly it was nothing that could be defined as ghostlike, and could easily have been mistaken for a puff of dust from the nearby chair Dobbs was moving.

But it wasn't.

And the power that spun all around me, as well as the growing chill in the air, only confirmed it.

Tentatively, I reached out with my thoughts and asked,
What happened to you?

Not so long ago, my ability to sense and hear souls had developed to where I could now converse with them telepathically—although not all souls seemed to have the strength to talk. Those that
did
seemed to be drawing additional strength from me, often leaving me feeling drained. Cole, who'd seen it happen a number of times now, thought it was dangerous—that the souls might just end up drawing me into the lands of death if I wasn't very careful. Jack and the magi weren't so sure that was possible.

I didn't know who was right, but I wasn't about to take any more risks than necessary. Death was one thing. Lingering on the plane of death—or wherever else it was that souls who were killed before their time went—was not on my agenda for the moment. Or any moment, actually.

The soul didn't answer, although the energy in the air was increasing. Frowning, I tried again.
What happened to you?

Death happened,
came the reply, the voice feminine but as strong and as powerful as the energy that spun around me.
What do you wish to know?

I frowned. Unlike most of them, this soul wasn't confused by what had happened, nor did she seem particularly angry. Which was odd, given her fate. And the energy that crawled all around me seemed to be
more than just the energy of the dead—though how that could be possible, I didn't know.

I need to know what you saw. I want to stop this killer before she kills someone else.

The soul didn't answer immediately. I waited, watching the wisp of smoke, wondering what went on in the mind of the newly dead. She seemed calmer, more accepting, than any of the other souls I'd come across, but I had a suspicion that appearances were deceiving.

I do not have the time to tell you all that I saw,
the soul said eventually,_
for even now, my final journey calls.

Then tell me what you can.

It is easier if I show you.
The wisp of smoke moved, drifting out from its corner, and the chill in the air increased until I was shivering with it.

How do you plan to show me?
But even as I asked the question, I pretty much knew the answer. And I wasn't entirely sure I wanted anything to do with it—even if the cost was not getting a much-needed lead on our killers.

She wanted to merge with me.

It will not be painful,
the soul said.
Just… different. Exhausting.