Embraced By Darkness

throw away from the beach, Luna Park, and the Ackland Street nightlife. The pack's finances had certainly improved more than I'd imagined—either that, or my grandfather had been more of a skinflint than I'd figured. Certainly when we'd been there, a luxury apartment in the middle of a thriving hot spot like St. Kilda was an unlikely acquisition. And the pack did own it, not Adrienne or the woman she shared with.

I paid the driver, then hopped out of the cab and stared up at the building. It was one of those modern structures that really didn't have any distinct style of its own—a slab-sided, low-profiled affair that at least didn't look too incongruous against the more elegant buildings next to it.

I pressed the security buzzer. A thinnish, bored-looking man in his mid-fifties looked at me for several seconds from behind the safety of his desk, then said through the intercom buzzer, 'What can I do for you, miss?'

His voice had that it's-all-too-much-effort tone that guaranteed instant annoyance. At least to me.

I pulled out my ID and slapped it against the glass. 'I need to talk to the occupants of apartment 303.'

'Jodie Carr and Adrienne Jenson? I don't believe either is in at the moment.'

'I don't care what you believe. I intend to go up there and discover for myself. Now, let me in.'

He did, I strode over to the desk, my heels echoing sharply against the highly polished marble tiles.

'Have you got the master key for the apartment?'

'Have you got a. warrant?'

His bored, somewhat condescending tones had my temper rising a little further, but I somehow managed to keep my voice even as I said, 'I don't need one. I'm Directorate. Now, am I going to have to throw your ass in jail for being a pain, or are you just going to give me the key?'

'Hey, I was only doing my job, you know?'

'If you were doing your job, this building would not have such a high rate of break-ins.' I gave him my sweetest smile, 'Someone with a suspicious mind might think there was inside information being sold.'

He muttered something under his breath, and somewhat sullenly handed me the keys.

When I got up to the apartment, I knocked on the door and waited patiently for an answer. But there was none—and no sign of body heat in the front room under infrared. The apartment itself seemed deathly quiet. I tried again, just in case someone was in the bathroom. Then I slipped the master key into the lock and opened the door.

The thick, flowery scent of perfume hit me almost straightaway, but underneath was a sour aroma I couldn't quite place. I wrinkled my nose, and wondered how any wolf could live with a smell like that. It was awful.

Trying not to breathe through my nose, I stepped past the door and into a surprisingly large living space. Although perhaps that feeling was enhanced by the white of carpets, walls, and ceiling, and the careful but sparse placement of furniture. All that white could have made the place feel sterile, but there were bold splashes of color in the form of cushions, flowers, and thick, thick rugs that had me wanting to rip off my shoes and run my toes through them. The overall feel of the place was surprisingly warm—though it was a feeling that was undoubtedly helped by the sunshine splashing through the huge wall of windows.

I ripped my gaze away from the million dollar view, and said, 'Hello?'

The sound echoed, filling the warm silence with sound. Trepidation tripped across my skin and I shivered a little. Though why I suddenly felt something was out of place, I couldn't really say. My clairvoyance tended not to give out juicy little details like that.

I walked across the living room, my footsteps ringing on the shiny wooden floorboards. The kitchen was small but functional, the fridge filled with fruit, vegetables, meat, and wine. But there wasn't a piece of chocolate or a cookie in sight. How on earth did they cope with the midnight hungers?

I closed the fridge door, and headed up the hallway. There was a small laundry area—though it was more a laundry closet than an actual room—a bathroom, and three bedrooms.

Jodie Carr was in the third and largest of the bedrooms.

She was lying atop a queen-sized bed, the blankets tangled around her bare legs and her shirt and skirt darkened by sweat. Her breathing was uneven, her face an unhealthy shade, and there was puke all over her chin and the sheets.

I swore softly and called it in, then walked over to the bed. This close, she smelled of the urine and vomit that stained her and the coverlet—hence the sour smell. It was a wonder she hadn't choked to death.

After carefully pulling her onto her side, I lightly slapped her cheek, trying to get a response. I didn't know if she'd taken drugs or whether this was merely alcohol induced, and I had no idea how to treat either. Still, thank God I hadn't listened to the idiot downstairs and just left.

'Who is this?' a deep voice said from behind me.

I jumped and swung around, my fists clenching automatically.

Blake stood at the end of the bed, his arms crossed. His form seemed more solid than it had been up on the island. Perhaps it was easier to send his psyche into known areas.

'Her name is Jodie Carr,' I said, then added, 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Checking up on your progress. Why is this Carr woman in Adrienne's bed?'

'You tell me.'

He glanced at me, gray eyes hinting at the anger that wasn't yet showing on his flat features. 'Why would I know?'

'Well, she's been sharing the apartment with Adrienne for more than a year, and the pack does own the apartment.' I hesitated, but couldn't help adding, 'Or does the chief dog not know what goes on in his own kennel?'

His eyes narrowed to slits, and the sense of danger was suddenly very palpable. 'Adrienne made no mention of sharing, nor was this person ever here when Patrin or I visited,' he said, in a tight, edgy voice that suggested he knew—or guessed—a whole lot more than he was willing to say.

Which was an interesting reaction. Why would he hold back anything if he was so desperate to find his granddaughter? And if he didn't actually know anything about his granddaughter's living arrangements, then why would Adrienne hide Jodie's presence from her father and grandfather? The obvious answer was that she didn't think either would approve.

I glanced down at the woman on the bed, and I realized she was human. That might be one very good reason for the caution. But there could be another.

'Is Adrienne gay?'

His head jerked back so fast anyone would have thought I'd punched him. 'No! Why would you even think that? She's my granddaughter.'

'And being your granddaughter precludes the possibility of being gay, does it?'

'She is not one of those.'

Again, his voice held an edge that was almost desperate. So, he mightn't know—or rather, might not want to know—the truth, but he guessed it all the same.

The fact that the mighty leader of the Jenson red pack was also homophobic was no great surprise. That had been apparent from his reaction to Rhoan over the years. But it must have been hell growing up in his family, knowing you were the one thing he hated. No wonder Adrienne had kept her sexuality such a closely guarded secret.

'Paramedics,' another voice called from the other room.

'In the last bedroom down the hall,' I yelled, then stepped around the bed, out of the way. Blake moved with me, his form shimmering, dropping in and out of focus.

A man and a woman came into the bedroom. She looked straight through Blake, not even acknowledging his presence. Which meant it was only me who could see him.

Lucky me.

I flashed my badge and told them how I'd found her.

'Smells like alcohol,' one said, as his partner set the bags down. He looked around the room. 'You seen any empty pill bottles? Anything to suggest she might have taken something else?'

'To be honest, I haven't really looked.'

He grunted and looked at his partner, who immediately began a search. No empty bottles were found in the bedroom, but an empty bottle of sleeping pills were discovered in the bathroom.