Embraced By Darkness

I didn't care if her spirit was there. It wouldn't tell me anything I didn't already know—and I certainly didn't want to feel any more of her pain than what I'd already seen.

'Here, drink this.'

Cole's soft voice came from behind me. I looked around, then accepted the glass of water he was offering. After rinsing my mouth several times, I sipped the remaining water, not wanting to stir my fragile stomach any more than necessary but needing to get some moisture back into my body. It felt like that house had drained me in more ways than one.

'I'm sorry,' I said, after a moment. 'That was very unprofessional of me.'

'Yeah,' he agreed. 'But it's nice to know some of our killers still have a soft side.'

'Oh, there's lots of soft things about me,' I said, trying to force some lightness into my voice and not succeeding very well. 'And if you play your cards right, I might just let you uncover them one day.'

'A day I can wait for,' he said, amusement mingling with concern in his bright eyes. 'Did you get any sense of a soul in there?'

I shook my head. There was nothing in there but death that was bloody and raw. That, and the sense of evil that hovered gloating above it. Whether it was a soul or merely a lingering emotion I was somehow sensing, I had no idea. Rut I had no intention of opening myself up to it to find out.

I shuddered, and took another hasty sip of water. 'She had no hair, just like the first victim.'

'Yeah. Seems the hair fetish is a part of this, whatever this is.'

'Did you find any hair at yesterday's scene?'

'No. Why?'

'Because the fiancé had some hair in his hand when I found him, but not enough, and I didn't see it dumped anywhere along the way. So what happened to it?'

'Anyone's guess right now.'

Yeah, I guess it was. 'Has anyone tried scenting out the husband?'

'No. I'm the only one here with a nose strong enough to do it, and I can't leave the scene until the investigation is done.'

Which may well be too late to uncover anything useful. 'You want to get me something with the husband's scent on it?'

He nodded, and moved back inside the house. My gaze swept the surrounding houses, seeing neat, cared for lawns and dwellings. Why had death come calling in this happy little neighborhood? What had this couple done to bring such destruction down upon themselves?

Cole came back out carrying a crumpled white business shirt. I took it from him and sniffed deeply, drawing in the musky scent of human male. Then I stripped off my jacket and sweater, and handed them to him, along with my purse.

'Keep these safe for me, will you?'

He nodded, then stepped back as I began to shift shape. In wolf form, Cole's scent leapt into focus—a delicious aroma that had my tail wagging and my hormones jumping. I studiously put my nose to the ground and tried to ignore it. After scuffing around for several minutes, I caught the husband's scent and followed it out onto the pavement.

I followed the trail down Kernan Street and onto Robinson, trotting past a mix of houses and apartments, all filled with life if not laughter. It made me feel warmer, somehow.

But dread began to fill me again as I crossed another road and entered another park. I suddenly had no doubt what I would find at the end of this trail, and find him I did. In a stand of trees near the lake.

Like Liam Barry yesterday, this man lay on his back. He'd died with a look of shock and agony on his face and the smell of terror lingering on his skin. The part not covered by blood and gore, that was.

I shifted to human shape, then called it in. Ten minutes before a cleanup team arrived. I swore softly, then set the phone to record, placed it in the branch of a nearby tree, and began my report.

And noticed there were only a few strands of dark hair clutched in his bloody fingers.

Where the hell was all the hair going?

I didn't know, but I had a feeling it was some sort of clue.

The cleanup team arrived precisely on time. I left them to it and walked back to the house. I didn't see any hair floating about on the breeze or caught in trees. Maybe it had already been swept down the street drains. Or maybe the answer was far more sinister.

Perhaps what I needed to do was check out past murders, and see if this pattern had been set elsewhere.

Cole was nowhere to be seen when I arrived back at the house, but his scent was drifting out from inside. I donned my sweater, then grabbed my jacket and purse and headed back to my can There was nothing more I could do here at the moment—or rather, nothing more that I wanted to do.

It was time to go talk to Adrienne's lover.

Jodie Carr lay wrapped in white hospital sheets, looking more than a little sorry for herself. Her blue eyes—a blue so pale they were almost gray—fixed on me briefly as I walked in, then her gaze skipped away to the window, staring as if there was something more interesting out there than just the brick wall of another building. She couldn't even see sky through that window. For a werewolf, that would have been hard to take, but I guess humans had higher tolerances.

'Jodie Carr?' I asked, stopping beside her bed and digging out my badge.

'Yeah. What's it to you?'

I held my badge in front of her. 'I'm here about Adrienne.'

She finally looked at me again. 'Why? What is she to you?'

The slight edge in her voice had my eyebrows rising, if only because it oddly seemed to hint at jealousy. 'Her alpha has asked me to investigate her disappearance.'

She snorted. 'That bastard didn't give a damn about her, not as long as she obeyed his edicts and behaved like a girl should.'

'So he had a suspicion you and Adrienne were lovers?'

She blinked, and for an instant, fear slithered across her face. Not that I blamed her. I'd spent many years afraid of Blake and his get.

'Why the fuck would you think something like that?'

'Because it's true? Few people would try to kill themselves just because they believed a friend was dead.'

She looked away and didn't say anything.

'Look, her father thinks she's in serious trouble, so any information you can provide might just help bring her back.'

'She won't ever come back.'

'And why would you think that?'

'Because she's dead.'

I blinked. 'Her father doesn't seem to think so.'

'Her father is a goddamn moron. He doesn't know Adrienne. He never has.'

'He's a clairvoyant. That would give him—'

'Nothing,' she spat. 'Nothing compared to what I have.'

'And that is?'

'Love.' She closed her eyes. 'She's dead. I can feel it.'

The pain in her voice had me wanting to reach out and comfort her, but I had a strong feeling any such move would be rejected. 'What story was Adrienne working on before she disappeared?'

'I'm not really sure. It was something to do with the club—something she saw there.' Jodie shrugged. 'She never really talked about her work much at home. That was our rule.'

'What club arc we talking about?' Even though I'd already guessed the answer, I asked the question all the same. Better to get a sure answer than to be proved wrong later. 'Mirror Image?'

She nodded.

'So they do allow humans and werewolves to intermingle sexually there?'