“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“If I challenge Damon, from here on out he’ll start giving me the same crap he dishes out to you. I can’t have that. At least one of us has to be in his good graces,” David said.
“So you’re hanging me out to dry, then?”
“I didn’t say—”
“Doesn’t need to be said. Message heard loud and clear.” Jace jabbed the off button and considered chucking the device into the middle of the street.
Shoving the phone back in his pocket instead, he exhaled a long breath. The chilly February weather transformed his breath into something visible, and he imagined his body steaming with rage like the smoke stack of an old train. Everything was peachy—just fucking peachy.
“DAMN. THAT SON OF a bitch hung up on me.” David shoved his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket and frowned. Jace was one hell of a hunter and a good guy, but man, did he have the temper of an angry bull on steroids. And David had just taken a cattle prod to the bull’s ass.
Shane stood from where he knelt by the body and cleared his throat. “Jace has had it rough lately.”
David shook his head. With Damon harping on Jace’s every move and the massive blows his self-esteem had been taking from not being able to catch the damn killer, rough was a massive understatement. “You don’t need to preach to me about it. I cut him more slack than anyone.”
“I wasn’t implying you didn’t. I guess I just feel bad for him.” Shane paused and glanced at the ground before he turned to David again. “Do you think Damon’s right? Do you think Jace should’ve caught the guy by now?”
“Damon needs to keep his friggin’ mouth shut, that’s what I think.” David frowned. “Jace is the best werewolf hunter I know, and I’ve worked with quite a few over the years. If he hasn’t gotten this guy yet, there’s a reason.” He zipped his jacket closed as another gust of cold Canadian wind blew through the city. With weather like this, he needed to put in for a transfer to Honolulu. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
Shane shoved his hands in his pockets. “So you think it’s not a werewolf, then?”
“No, I trust J’s judgment. If he says it’s a werewolf, I believe him.” He would be an idiot not to, knowing Jace’s darkest secret.
Life would be so much easier if they could tell the Execution Underground management the main reason why Jace was so damn good at his job. But hell would be made of flowers and candy before Damon would let a half-breed be a part of his team.
David ran his fingers through his hair. “For the sake of these girls, I can’t close my mind to other possibilities.” He gestured to the body. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked at her one more time. Rigor had set in, and her already lifeless form had become all the more still. The blood had dried around her in a pool of black, and the remnants of the crimson on her skin crusted over. He shook his head. A normal human wasn’t capable of this kind of carnage.
“Do you think there’s any significance that all the victims are attractive women? Well...at least as far as we can tell, anyway.” Shane’s eyes darted around the alley.
David shrugged. “That’s a hard call.”
Shane met his gaze for a moment before his eyes fell to the ground again. “I think it has some significance.”
“How do you figure?” David asked.
“Look at the details.” Shane bent next to the body and pointed at the victim’s face, her heavily shadowed lids and red-tinted pout. “From the crime-scene photos, all the other victims wore heavy makeup like this.” He gestured to the hair hanging over the girl’s shoulder. “All of them had their hair done nicely, and from what’s left of their clothes, they weren’t dressed casually.” He stood and stepped back from the body.
“All right, then. What are you thinking?”
“My theory,” Shane said, “is that he isn’t blitz attacking them on the streets. He’s picking them up, like at a club or a bar. That would explain the age range, as well—college girls. A lot of them look around the age of my students at U of R.”
David nodded. “I’ll be damned, Shane. Where do you come up with this stuff?”
Shane shrugged. “I pay close attention to detail.”
David stared into the girl’s frozen face. She was so young, and if she didn’t look exactly like Allsun—large wide eyes veiled by thick lashes, heart-shaped face, head full of curls, and the look of a small pixie—she was close. But no girl would ever be as beautiful as Allsun, not in his eyes. The thought of her lying there like this poor girl sent his stomach reeling, and a sharp pang hit his chest.
But how would he know if this girl really looked like her? Other than quick glimpses, he hadn’t seen Allsun in years. He shook his head, trying to fight off the thoughts. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face in her neck, kiss her one more time, hold her and know that she was safe. He closed his eyes and buried the painful memories in the back of his mind, where they belonged. “Only one problem, though,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“This girl doesn’t look like she’s twenty-one yet. If she’s not drinking age, either your theory is wrong or she was trying to pass as older.”
Shane frowned. “I wish I had my phlebotomy kit. I’d love to run a test of her blood-alcohol content.”
“Too bad there’s no I.D.”
Shane bit his lower lip and rested his chin on his fist. Only a few seconds passed before his eyes lit up. “I have an idea,” he said.
David grinned. “I’m not surprised.”
Shane pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He unfolded the dark blue material, revealing a pattern made up of the constellations. He bent next to the body and used the handkerchief to lift the girl’s hand before he glanced up.
David raised a single brow and nodded toward the handkerchief.
A deep blush ran across Shane’s cheeks. “The constellations have a lot of meaning in the occult. Besides, my grandmother gave it to me. I have to use it or she’ll get her feelings hurt.”
David chuckled. “I can’t very well fault a man for caring about his grandma. If mine gave me a pink flowered jacket, you better believe I’d wear it just to please her.”
Shane fought back a smile as he rubbed the handkerchief across the girl’s hand.
David’s eyes widened. “What are you doing? Shane, you can’t tamper with the crime scene.”
Shane ignored him and continued wiping at the girl’s skin. “Trust me.” Once he managed to clear most of the blood off, he said, “Look at this, David.”
David walked forward and crouched down beside him. The faint outline of a black
Shane stared at him with a sad look in his eyes. “That’s what they put on your hand at a club if you’re under twenty-one, so then the bartender knows not to serve you. It looks like she tried to wash it off.” He shook his head. “Someone hurting a young girl like this makes my blood boil.”
David nodded. “Me too.” He stood to his full height and turned away. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand looking at this poor girl. In his field, he didn’t often deal with dead bodies. Demons used their victims and then usually left them as catatonic shells of what they’d once been. Rarely did they take the time to kill their targets. He wasn’t sure which was worse. “You have everything you need for the report?”
Shane sighed. “Yeah, I do. We can go ahead and... Hey, what’s this?”
David turned around to find Shane holding the butt of a cigarette. The butt of a Marlboro Red. The two of them exchanged glances.
David let out a low growl. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Shane bit his lower lip. “Should we just throw it out? The cops haven’t found it yet, and they won’t if we dispose of it, so there’s no harm done, right?”
David shook his head and mumbled another string of profanities. “We have to turn it in. I already texted the picture of the crime scene to Damon. If he sees that in the shot, all our asses will be hung out to dry.”
The shit just wouldn’t stop piling up for Jace, would it? David shook his head. If he thought the phone
