Blood Bearon (High House Ursa Book 5)

by Riley Storm

  “I know. That’s what I told the Mayor when he called. I said I was confident they’d solve it.”

  “Thank you, Sir, I—”

  Rachel was nodding, her brain already shifting into analysis, when a single word trickled through her brain. “They? Sir?”

  “You and your partner. You’ll figure it out,” the Sheriff said, looking at various files on his desk.

  “Pardon? I don’t have a partner, Sir.” Great. Who am I getting saddled with now? If it’s Martin, I may just quit now.

  “You’re going to need help on this one, Corningstone.”

  Was that a…smirk?

  “It better not be Martin,” she said. “If this is some sort of cruel prank…”

  Dottner leaned forward and pressed a button on his phone. “Khove, could you come in here please?”

  She frowned. What the hell kind of name was Cove? Was his sister named River? Maybe Lagoon? Bay? The door opened and she looked at her new partner. At least, at his chest. Then her head went up, and up. Until…

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open.

  “Khove Ursa,” the giant with gray eyes from the night before said, sticking out a hand.

  “Detective Corningstone,” she said, trying to muffle her surprise.

  “Pleasure to meet you for the first time,” Khove said, a tiny twinkle in his eyes.

  He did know who she was, so that ruled out a random identical twin. This was the man she’d arrested. The one who’d ruined her car. And nearly her night. Rachel had thought she was done with him. Now the Sheriff was making him her partner?

  She longed to lash out at him, but because he wasn’t in any of her reports from the night before, she couldn’t. For the moment, she had to bite her tongue and stay silent despite the dozens of questions she had for the annoying giant.

  “May I have my hand back?” he asked.

  Glancing down, she yanked her hand back. Had she really been shaking his hand the entire time? “Sorry,” she mumbled, turning back as the Sheriff cleared his throat.

  “Anyway, Mr. Ursa here is going to be your partner on the case. All the properties attacked last night apparently belong to his, um,” the Sheriff looked down at a piece of paper on his desk. “Family.”

  Khove nodded graciously. “Yes, we’ve been in Plymouth Falls for a rather long time, and as such, we’ve built up a fairly extensive portfolio of business.”

  Rachel was shaking her head. “Fine. I’m sorry for the attacks on your property of course, but Sheriff,” she said, facing her boss directly. “I’m not taking a civilian along on a case like this.”

  Sheriff Dottner winced at the vehemence in her voice, but shook his head in disagreement. “Actually, you are, Corningstone.”

  The overstuffed teddy bear spoke next to her. “I am more than qualified to assist, Miss Corningstone, and I promise, you won’t find me an anchor.”

  “Detective,” she snapped. “It’s Detective Corningstone, and of course, you won’t be an anchor. An anchor stays attached to the ship and doesn’t go wandering off at will.”

  Khove smiled tightly. “An anchor’s job is also to secure the ship and prevent it from smashing itself against danger the Captain doesn’t always see.”

  She inhaled sharply, about to fire off a hot retort when the Sheriff spoke.

  “I’m sorry, am I missing something? Do you two know each other?”

  “No!” they both said at the same time, with a bit more forcefulness than necessary.

  Sheriff Dottner looked back and forth between her and Khove, before finally latching his glare onto her. Rachel stiffened. Of course, she was the one getting in shit over this.

  “I can pull you from the case, Corningstone, if this is going to be a problem.”

  “No problem at all, Sheriff,” Khove said, interjecting.

  “I can handle it, Sir,” she said tightly when the Sheriff ignored the civilian’s words and kept looking at her.

  “Good. Then learn to work together. And solve this case.”

  “Yes, Sir. On it, Sir.”

  Khove simply nodded.

  “Then get out of my office and get to work!” Dottner said.

  Rachel turned to go, ready to fling the door open in anger.

  Khove, however, beat her to it and pulled the door open for her, holding it wide. Rachel shivered in rage at the calm beatific smile on his face before she marched out of the office, trying to keep the steam from her ears.

  Not only had she not managed to forget this idiot existed, but now she was expected to work with him?

  “Something wrong, Detective?” Khove asked, following behind her.

  “I wish I had arrested you last night,” was all she said as she returned to her desk.

  10

  “That wouldn’t have been beneficial for either of us,” he replied, nonplussed, pausing as Rachel sat down. The Sheriff had finally given him her first name before she’d shown up for work.

  “I think it would have been plenty beneficial,” she growled. “Seeing you behind bars would be all sorts of therapeutic.”

  Khove casually deposited himself in the chair across from her, hoping that the generous creak as he settled into it was not a sign it was about to give way.

  “Putting the criminal behind bars will be even more so,” he pointed out. “Something we have a better chance of doing working together than alone.”

  Rachel sighed. “Let’s get this straight, Khove. We are not working together. You are my assistant on this. You will do as I say, go where I say, and that’s it, got it?”

  He frowned. “That’s not what the Sheriff said.”

  “I’m well aware. But the Sheriff doesn’t know you’re a bumbling, untrustworthy fool prone to sneaking off on your own. If he did, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Khove smiled. “Yet you didn’t tell him that.”

  “Of course not. How dumb do you think I am? If I’d done that, then he’d know we had met already. Considering I didn’t include you in my report, that would be awkward, at best.” She pushed aside several papers on her desk and pulled a folder from her inbox tray, then began sifting through the contents, ignoring him.

  “What’s the plan then?” he asked, forced to cover a huge yawn as he spoke. “I need something to wake me up.”

  Rachel’s head snapped up. “Seriously? You’re complaining about being tired? I worked until nearly eight-thirty. Home, showered, slept for a few hours and in here for noon. Don’t complain about being tired. You got to go home and sleep it off.”

  “My sincere apologies, Detective,” he drawled, declining to mention that he hadn’t, in fact, gotten any sleep.

  “I thought you would have had enough adventure last night,” she continued. “But yet you had to go and meddle in an active police investigation, getting yourself inserted into it as my partner.” She frowned. “Speaking of which, how did you convince the Sheriff to assign you to me? You have no qualifications.”

  Khove snorted. As much as he enjoyed watching the various expressions cross Rachel’s face, he was getting a bit tired of her near-constant disdain for him. Perhaps it was time he disabused her of the notion that he was unqualified to assist her.

  “That’s not entirely accurate,” he said, waiting until he had her attention before continuing. “I am a trained and certified expert marksman with more types of weaponry than any of the officers in the Sheriff’s department, including you, Detective. Everything from pistols to sniper rifles and anti-tank weaponry.”

  She didn’t flinch, though her pupils did dilate, blending into that stunning azure blue that seemed so unnatural. He had her attention.

  “I have not only taken but I’ve been a trainer in advanced vehicular warfare classes and can pilot just about any sort of ground vehicle you can name, both civilian and military. I’m working on airborne vehicles and expect to have my helicopter license shortly. Fighter jets are posing a problem due to my size, but in simulators, I exceed all but the best the Air Force has to offer. Shall I
continue?”

  “Sure. It sounds like you need to blow your own horn a bit here.” The words were harsh, but the tone was less so. Perhaps he was gaining her attention.

  “I have unarmed combat training in three different disciplines to black belt or higher level.” He paused. “Anything else?”

  Sitting back into her chair, she pushed her long blonde hair back behind her shoulder and stroked one immaculate cheek. A smile dimpled her face, one of the first he could recall her ever showing. Khove tried not to smile in return, fixated on the way her entire demeanor changed with the smile, even if it was a challenging grin, not one born of laughter.

  “Are you familiar with the law?”

  “Pardon?’

  “The law, Khove. Rules and regulations that must be followed, to ensure that crooks are brought to face justice?”

  “They will face justice,” he growled, thinking of Korred and how he wanted nothing more than to run his blade through the treacherous mage’s heart.

  He tried to blot out the image of his Queen when she’d been under Korred’s spell, her mind bound to the traitor, bending to his will. He felt shame for letting such a thing happen to the one he’d sworn to protect with his life. It burned deep inside Khove, a hatred for himself that he didn’t let show to anyone.

  Rachel was staring at him now, her shaped eyebrows pulling down over her eyes. She was suspicious. Could she know that he was talking about a different type of justice than the one she intended? Perhaps, but it didn’t matter.

  Korred would never be punished by human authorities. It simply could not be allowed to come to that. For his own redemption, but also by the command of his Queen, Korred had to die. No human prison was capable of holding someone like him anyway. With his magic, he could simply rip open a rent in reality and step through to anywhere else in the world.

  “All that training,” she drawled, “and you still don’t know better than to wander off from the person you want to be your partner in the middle of an active and possibly hostile crime scene.”

  “You have my apologies for that,” he said, sitting up and leaning over her desk, getting close to her, where he caught yet another whiff of her perfume.

  His first taste of it had been when she’d walked by him into the Sheriff’s office earlier. The faint scent of roses had tickled his nose, and he wanted more, wanted to try and detect the undertones within it as well, because whatever it was, he found it intoxicating.

  “Right,” she said, seeming startled by his sudden apology. “Thank you. Don’t let it happen again.”

  He grinned. “So you’re going to work with me?”

  “You bribed or blackmailed the Sheriff into forcing me to. It’s not like I have much of a choice.” Rachel smiled tightly. “So you’d better hope you’re more useful than just being a walking army of one.”

  “Very. I will—” He broke off, stifling another yawn.

  Rachel glared at him as she caught the contagious bug and yawned violently as well. “Stop that. You got to sleep. It’s not nice.”

  Khove didn’t say anything. After all, she probably didn’t want to know that he had spent the rest of the evening trailing her, following her from crime scene to crime scene. He hadn’t been there to investigate. That was her job. Instead, he’d patrolled the outer edges of the scenes, keeping watch, making sure Korred hadn’t come back to strike.

  His vigil hadn’t ended there. After she’d returned home to sleep, he’d watched her house, trying to ward off the feeling that something was wrong. The tingling of danger hadn’t dissipated since, but now that he was paired up with this detective, he could keep a closer eye on her.

  “Okay,” she said at last, having looked down at her desk while he stared off into space.

  “Okay?” He blinked, peering at the sheets on her desk, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

  “Let’s go.”

  Khove nodded and rose abruptly. “Right. Let’s do it.” He paused. “Um. Where are we going?”

  Rachel was shaking her head at him, still seated at her desk. “To the place that didn’t fit the pattern. The one where you decided to run off on me.”

  Khove frowned. He hadn’t “run off”. He’d followed the scent of Canim, tracking them down and accosting the trio of youths who had fled from the warehouse. It turned out they were the ones who’d called in the fake fire. They were covering their own tracks, as they’d put it, while trying to hide out.

  He’d caught them in a nearby warehouse, surrounded by supplies, inflatable mattresses and a tiny portable cook stove. After some threatening and cajoling, Khove had gotten it from them that they weren’t responsible for the attacks on Ursa property. They just didn’t want to be at Moonshadow Manor anymore. They claimed it wasn’t safe.

  It was absolutely nothing to do with him and his House. He’d let them go and raced back over to the warehouse.

  “It’s a dead end,” he said bluntly. “A coincidence, nothing more.”

  “What? How can you be so sure of that?” Rachel was standing now too, gathering up her files. “Or is this another one of your super-duper training skills?”

  Khove was trapped, and he knew it. He couldn’t tell her the truth. That was simply out of the question. So, he had to throw her a bone, a distraction—something to keep her attention occupied elsewhere. Unfortunately, there was only one he could think of.

  “Because,” he said tightly, wishing he could have kept this card closer to his chest. “I know who’s behind all this.”

  “What!?” Rachel shouted, slamming her hands down on her desk.

  All around the office, conversation ceased as heads turned to stare in their direction. Acutely uncomfortable at the attention, Khove cleared his throat quietly.

  “Do you seriously know who’s doing this?” Rachel hissed in lowered tones, leaning over the desk, neck craned back so she could stare at him.

  “Not here,” he said softly.

  “Khove, if you know anything that pertains to this case, you need to tell me. If you don’t, that’s obstruction of justice. That’s a legitimately arrestable offence,” she ground out, eyes flashing with blue-white lightning.

  “Not. Here,” he repeated. “Come on.”

  “What? Where are we going?”

  He smiled. “Being the center of attention always makes me hungry. So since you did that, you’re taking me for food. We’ll talk more there. In private.”

  Rachel stood up, giving him a long stare. Khove tried not to let it show, but he felt more analyzed and dissected in those five seconds than at any other point in his life. It was extremely unsettling. How did she do that?

  “Fine,” she said at last, gesturing for him to follow her. “Food it is. That’s not such a bad idea. But you’re going to tell me everything, got it?”

  “Got it.” Everything you need to know.

  They walked out into the parking lot behind the station. He started scanning the cars, looking for hers, but didn’t spot it.

  “Over here.”

  Rachel was pointing at an SUV. He followed her over to it. “Finally, something with room.”

  She pulled open the back seat. “Get in.”

  Khove looked at her. Then at the back door. Then at Rachel again. She just smiled sweetly. “I have stuff in the front. Someone decided to wreck the back seat of my car.”

  Grumbling, he climbed into the back of a police vehicle for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  At least this time, he didn’t have handcuffs on. That was an improvement of sorts.

  11

  The cracked and faded red leather hissed loudly as she sat, only tapering off after she’d sunk almost entirely through the so-called padding. Khove eased his way in across from her, the fabric doing the same song and dance with him.

  “Classy establishment, Detective,” Khove said, picking at the laminate peeling from the tabletop.

  “You never said otherwise. Besides, they do the best hash browns here. To die for. Trust
me, it’s good food, which is what matters most.”

  The giant shrugged, the bench groaning with the motion. “If you say so.”

  She nodded and sat back in her seat, ready and waiting for Khove to tell her everything he knew about the crimes and the mastermind behind them. Including why, if they knew who it was, they hadn’t told anyone until now.

  “First off, I want to make sure you know I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “As long as you’re letting me know now, it’s not really that big a deal.”

  Khove shook his head. “No, I meant for last night. For leaving you. I should have told you what I was doing, you’re right. That was not cool. I’m just used to working with a team that knows each other inside and out, who operate under somewhat different rules. I didn’t factor in that you and I had never worked together before. It’s my fault.”

  “Oh. Right. Last night. Yeah, it’s okay, just don’t do it again, okay?”

  “I won’t.” He tapped the table softly. “I didn’t realize it would bother you so much that I went off on my own.”

  Rachel averted her gaze. “Yeah. I should have handled it better,” she said tightly, sighing at the same time. “It’s been a long time since I worked with someone else.”

  “I understand,” Khove said gently.

  “Ever since I came to Plymouth Falls,” she said in a sudden bout of chattiness. “Before, actually. Over two years that I’ve worked alone. I—” Blinking, she stopped suddenly, wondering at the uncharacteristic loquaciousness about her past. Why did she think telling him was a good idea?

  I barely know him. Get it together, Corningstone. Lose a few hours’ sleep for the first time in ages and suddenly you’re falling apart at the seams? Going soft with the country life.

  Khove opened his mouth to speak, and Rachel frantically thought of a way to change the subject, to prevent him from asking what she’d been about to say. Fate decided to intervene, and the door to the diner opened behind her, stealing Khove’s attention.

  Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw it was another officer. Turning farther, she caught a glimpse of who, and tried to stifle a groan. What was he doing here? Immediately, she turned back to the menu on the table in front of her, paying it extra attention, although she knew exactly what she was going to order.