“That was beautiful,” he whispered.
“But over too quickly.” I grinned and clenched my sex around him.
A rumbled grated past his lips.
“Don't worry, baby,”—I slipped off him and angled myself between his legs—“I've got you.”
I slipped my mouth over him; my lips conforming to his flesh as I drew his shaft in as deep as I could take him. Slate's hands went to the sides of my face.
“Elaria,” he said softly as he stared down at me, “I... oh, sweetheart.”
I moved over him faster, adding my hand to my efforts, and soon his thighs were clenching around me.
“Oh, that's the magic,” Slate growled, his hands tightening on my face. “Suck that cock, Spellsinger. Just like that. Don't stop.”
He shouted incoherently and pushed me down, holding me there as he emptied himself. I went with it; sometimes Slate likes it a little rough and, if I'm honest, so do I. After he was spent, he released me, and I licked my way off him then gave him a wicked grin.
“Feeling better?” I asked.
“Oh, yes,” Slate murmured. “Like myself again.”
Chapter Seven
By nightfall, there had been three more catfights. Every Felinae race was represented in the jail cells; from the Simba to the Rys (Werelynx). All but the Inlonka, of course. Once behind bars, the shifters inevitably woke from their daze and became their normal selves again but there was no way to know if they'd become infected—or whatever was happening to them—once more. The Felinae neighborhoods were no longer under surveillance, they were under quarantine. The official statement was that the Felinae were targets of a possible chemical attack and had been segregated for their protection. In addition to that, the entire Zone would be on lockdown until the perpetrator was found and dealt with.
Beneathers weren't panicking yet—everything else was business as usual in the Zone—but rumors of the absent Inlonka had begun circulating and Gargoyles were patrolling the streets in greater numbers than ever before. It felt like an occupied state.
I stood at the window behind Slate's desk as he met with his brothers, Jago, and a few other high-ranking Gargoyles. As they tossed theories around, I wracked my brain for a way to help them, but I couldn't come up with a single song that I could use to discover who or what was doing this. I didn't think your average hunting song would cut it this time. Mainly because I didn't know what I was hunting.
If it was a person, sure, it could work but what if it wasn't? What if it was what Slate and I feared; a Gargo haunting? What song could find a spirit? But I didn't know if it was a spirit either. I needed something encompassing. General. Perhaps a song about revealing secrets? No. I needed to focus on what we wanted to know; who was behind this. Okay, now I had to simplify that desire into lyrics. We needed to find a criminal. The perpetrator, whoever or whatever that was.
Smooth Criminal? Kyanite offered.
I considered it. The song was about murder and the repetitive question in it, about the wellbeing of the victim, wouldn't help me.Annie was not okay.
No, I dismissed it. This isn't a murderer, not yet. It's someone who instigates violence. A manipulator. A warmonger. They might even consider themselves a vigilante. One person's terrorist is another's freedom fighter. It's all in perspective. I just needed to find the right way to look at this.
Perhaps a song to put you in the shoes of the attacker? Kyanite suggested.
Yes! That's it, Ky! Either way, this is malicious. Someone wants to hurt people, and I need to find out who they are. The best way to do that is to think like them!
I have the perfect song, my love, Kyanite declared.
The hesitant piano of Summer Kennedy's “Bad Things” started so gently that no one noticed it at first. I let my magic rise with the music, ignoring the men behind me as I focused on the Zone. I sang softly at first, mournfully, and my words revolved around vengeance. The men went quiet, their attention shifting to me just as the music leapt into a dramatic drumming. I opened the window and leaned over the ledge, letting my song drift across the city beneath the earth.
The Zone Lord stepped up beside me and stared at his domain with me, but I couldn't look at him, not even a glance. I was caught up in the music and magic; in the feeling of bitter fury and the burning need for justice. Hadn't the Kaplan said something about anger? Perhaps they had felt their assailant's emotions. I needed to feel them too; to sink into the perspective of the criminal.
My magic heard my desire. It took me there; sent me down into a darkness so consuming that it was acidic. Burning in a way even I, with my fire magic, couldn't enjoy. I knew I was experiencing exactly what the shifters in Slate's cells had. They had all reported similar experiences; feeling wronged and then focusing that anger on a target. The need to do something bad rose inside me. Something terrible that would make up for... for what?
I pushed out further with my voice and magic; into the neighborhoods, over the quarantined cats, and beyond them. No answer presented itself. I needed more. Where was this rage coming from? Was Gargo's soul taking shelter in the Felinae; leaping from one to another to cause as much damage as he could? But that felt wrong to me. Off. Nearly there but not quite. How would he possess several people at once? I pushed my frustration into the lyrics; straining to discover why. Why?!
There
