“What?” she asked, already knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“It should tell you something that he came looking for you before seeing me and Rachel.”
Juliana ran a hand down her face. “He was probably just checking on the Den,” she said even though she knew it was a lie. “It would figure the person I least want to see owns my favorite bar.”
“If you recall, that is precisely why it was your favorite bar once upon a time.”
Juliana grimaced at the reminder. “That was a long time ago. Now I like it because everyone leaves me alone.”
“Have you talked to Michael?”
She clenched her teeth. “He says he didn’t know anything about it?”
There was silence for a moment. “You believe him?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I am starting to regret not letting James give me those mage lessons he offered, however. A fireball spell wouldn’t be remiss right now.”
Sara snorted a laugh. “That is unfortunate. My husband would have greatly enjoyed teaching you how to bespell my brother’s ass. Not that you haven’t done it in your own way already.”
“Yeah, that’s enough of that conversation. I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
She tossed the phone on the table and rolled to her feet. She peered through the slit at the edge of the curtain. Her eyes ran up and down the length of the street looking for any sign of Thomas or the car. They skipped over a shape in the lot opposite her house then snapped back when her brain realized it didn’t belong. A figure stood with hands stuffed in his pockets. The streetlight at his back kept his face in shadow.
It wasn’t Thomas. The figure was too short, too lean to be her vampire. She eased away from the window, careful not to disturb the curtain.
Grabbing her gun, she fired up her gift as she opened her door and stepped out onto the front stoop. Cold cement against her feet reminded her she wasn’t dressed for a pursuit. Scanning the area, she picked up no signature, nothing at all. Not even the residual signature she should have gotten if someone had just left. There was no sign anyone had been there at all. Her blood chilled. The key was not to freak out. The cursed troll had probably given her a brain infection and she was imagining the whole thing.
She slipped back inside the house, locking the door behind her. For an hour, she moved from window to window searching for another glimpse, another sign she wasn’t crazy. Nothing. Of course not, why would there be? That would mean she could relax and quit freaking out. Eventually she crawled back onto the couch. She placed her gun within easy reach on the table beside her and she fell into a fitful sleep.
The phone vibrated and shimmied across the tabletop, knocking against the wood as it went. She opened one eye to scowl at it, but it continued to buzz instead of going to voicemail. The Agency provided her phone, which meant they could charm it and she couldn’t say a word. The charm that gave her full service bars and a battery that never died she loved. The one that caused the phone to continue to ring until she answered when the call was work related? Not so much.
She glanced at the clock and groaned. Fewer than four hours of sleep. She groped along the scarred wood, feeling a flash of triumph as her fingers closed around the cool plastic. This had better not be another bullshit relocation or she was going to shove the phone up someone’s ass.
“Norris.”
“It’s me,” answered a low, smooth voice.
Jeremiah Grace was Juliana’s screener with the Agency. All Walkers had one as there were a lot of cases and a relatively small number of Walkers. The screeners went in, assessed the situation and decided whether the Walker needed to be called at all or if it could be handled by the lower level agents. In her case, it was precisely why Jeremiah was the first point of contact. Juliana had a tendency to think no one else could do the job and take on everything herself. He was objective enough to know when that was true and when it wasn’t. Not that she couldn’t take a case on if she wanted to anyway, but she rarely overruled Jeremiah. There was no quicker way to piss off a screener than to constantly ignore their opinion on cases.
“Give me a second.” She put the phone down and swung her feet off the couch. Once she was in a sitting position, she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, struggling to wake up. When she thought she could have a coherent conversation, she grabbed the phone. “Talk to me.”
“Fresh victim. Warehouse six at the pier.” His voice pulled her back to the present. “Have you eaten?”
She looked at the clock again. “It’s 4:30 in the morning. What do you think?”
“Don’t,” he said and hung up without waiting for a response.
Juliana slid to a smooth stop outside warehouse six as a cold rain began to spit from the sky. Each icy drop stung like a needle prick against her skin. The crisp morning air tingled in her lungs. The scent of diesel was already mixing with the brine of the ocean as traffic on the waterway increased. She climbed off her bike and nodded a greeting to the familiar faces that patrolled the perimeter of the building.
She turned in a slow circle, taking in the surroundings. Darkness reigned except for the periodic orange glow from an unbroken streetlight. Warehouses and office buildings comprised most of the pier’s real estate.
Cameras hung outside a couple of buildings, but even if they worked, none of them pointed at the warehouse. Regardless, the tapes might show something and she made a mental note to have them pulled. Unable to delay any longer, she walked to the door, took a deep breath and swung it open.
Immediately blinded by the incessant glare of the techs’ work lights, she stood still to give her eyes a chance to adjust. As she did, the acrid scent of cinders and ashes filled her nostrils. A demon. The only Altered without a signature, the only being she couldn’t track her normal way. The techs working the scene wore masks, but she doubted it was due to the demon stench. Only a few Altered could detect the smell. She was one of them. Lucky her.
Jeremiah appeared beside her, offering her a mask of her own. She waved him away. The odor had already permeated every cell in her nose. The mask wouldn’t help now. Besides, it covered up the more mundane aromas of death. She’d take cinder and ashes over blood, sweat and urine any day.
“You know I can’t track demons,” she said. She looked past him into the room, keeping her eyes diverted from the victim for the time being.
“That’s not true,” he argued. “You just can’t
They stood at the edge of an empty room with a few boxes scattered around and a small office off to one side. Judging from the grime and cobwebs the building hadn’t been in use for some time. She settled her eyes on the body. Demons rarely killed clean and this victim was no exception. Thankfully, she listened to Jeremiah and hadn’t grabbed a bite to eat on the way out the door.
A mound of flesh, indiscernible as male or female, lay in a pool of congealing blood in the middle of the floor. Arterial spray decorated the area surrounding it along with bloody chunks she could only assume were once part of the poor bastard in front of her. The body had been literally ripped apart. She could only hope for the victim’s sake that it was after he was already dead. The amount of blood told her that probably wasn’t the case, but she’d let the M.E. decide.
One lone drop fell from the ceiling to add to the gore below. She glanced up to see something wet dangling from one of the beams above her head. She smacked Jeremiah on the arm with the back of her hand and gestured toward her find.
He looked up and grunted before yelling to one of the techs.
The tech frowned, hands on his hips. “How, by all the gods, am I supposed to retrieve that?”
“Not my problem,” Jeremiah said with a small smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. He fell into step beside Juliana as she moved farther into the room. She crouched at the edge of the
