The man shrugged. “Something hungry. Or someone completely twisted. She’s been here nearly twenty-four hours. That’s all I know.”
“Thank you.” She glanced at the body again. Could the same creature that attacked the rapists have been responsible for the carnage here? If so, why would it have come back for the woman? Nothing about this case made sense. Turning to Bryce, she took a deep breath and immediately wished she hadn’t. The stale scent of death mixed with flesh on the verge of decay made her stomach turn. “Do you think a person did this?”
He looked at the body and grimaced. “I sure hope not, but who knows? Do your thing, and maybe you’ll get something.”
She pursed her lips. Her ability hadn’t helped so far, but she’d give it a try. She trotted up the porch steps and put her hand against the wall. The old cottage’s secrets danced through her mind as fleeting images and short movies. She saw a Creole woman giving birth, a couple cooing over a baby, a soldier heading off to war as his wife cried over a cradle. Other images flitted in and out of her consciousness too quickly for her to grab onto. What was the house trying to tell her? Where was the victim’s energy?
Macey took a deep breath to clear her mind. Then she closed her eyes and focused on the victim, willing her energy to come forward. A single picture flashed through her senses: the victim standing sideways in front of a mirror with her hand on her pregnant belly. Macey tried to grab hold of the picture, to make it stay so she could explore it. But it flitted away as quickly as it had come.
She dropped her hand and exhaled a sigh. It didn’t make sense. The victim wasn’t pregnant. Macey had spoken to her a few weeks earlier. She didn’t have any children, according to the police report, but the woman in the vision was at least eight months along. Maybe she’d had a miscarriage at one time?
“He’s here.”
Macey jerked her head around at the whisper. It sounded as if someone stood right beside her. “What?” She scanned the scene, but she stood alone on the porch. The rest of the people there were men, and the whisper had been female.
A prickling sensation made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. A static electrical charge had her body humming. Was it the woman’s spirit? It had to be. Like in the courtyard a few days prior, the spirit’s energy danced around her…so close, but she couldn’t grab onto it.
“I heard you,” Macey whispered, so no one would hear her talking to a ghost. “What happened to you?”
She strained to hear the spirit again, but nothing happened. The energy dissipated, leaving Macey alone. Had she imagined it? She turned to report what she’d seen to Bryce, but movement in the line of trees behind the house caught her eye. The shadow of a man darted from behind a trunk and disappeared into the thicket.
What if it was the killer? If anyone was sick enough to do something like this, he’d probably return to the scene. Or was it a ghost? In the darkness, it was hard to tell. Macey slipped off the porch and tiptoed through the grass toward the woods, careful not to draw attention to herself.
She crept past the tree line and swept the area with her vision. She didn’t see anything unusual, but the crunch of a breaking branch drew her attention deeper into the forest. She reached for her gun, but she didn’t have it. Her heart pounded, the sound thrumming in her ears, as icy adrenaline flushed through her system. Her muscles tensed, and she tried to slow her breathing. What was she thinking heading into the woods unarmed and unprepared? If she called for backup now, whoever—or whatever—she was tracking would surely bolt. She was already here. She could handle it.
The figure took off, sprinting through the trees. She caught a glimpse of it—tall, broad shoulders, definitely masculine—before he disappeared into the thickness. Macey gave chase, running in the general direction he’d gone. She dodged tree stumps and stumbled over roots, nearly losing a flip flop, before she stopped.
She’d lost him.
“Where the hell did you go?” Standing utterly still, she held her breath and hoped a sound of his movement would betray his location. A soft breeze tickled her skin, and she inhaled deeply. The only scent that danced on the wind was the putrid death of the scene behind her. She crept forward through the brush, taking care to place each step with precision. The last thing she needed was a broken branch piercing the thin, floppy sole of her shoe.
A noise to her right made her heart leap. She stumbled back and caught herself on a tree trunk as a flock of quails squawked and flew from their nests. She swallowed and wiped the sweat from her brow. Get a grip, Mace.
As she continued to inch ahead, a thick, frigid gust of air enveloped her. It pricked at her body like thousands of dry pine needles piercing her skin. Ice formed in her veins as the atmosphere around her closed in, choked and heavy, with an aura of something…familiar. It slithered up her arms and swirled around her head as it made its presence known—the spirit from the courtyard. Instinct told her to bolt, but she tried to stay calm as whatever—or whoever—continued to torment her. If it was the rapist whose body went missing, maybe she could communicate with him.
“Who are you?” She gritted her teeth as the pricking sensation grew stronger. “What do you want?”
She strained to hear the faint chuckle that danced through her head.
“I want you, Detective.”
“What the hell?” The voice had come from inside her head. With one sharp rip, the spirit entered her body. She’d never been possessed, but she knew without a doubt the ghost had gotten inside her. She could feel it rolling through her limbs, trying to control her mind. She couldn’t move herself, but her head jerked toward a sound to her right.
A sharp exhale. A rustling in the brush. Her pulse thrummed in her ears and her stomach dropped as a creature appeared from the shadows. Shiny caramel-colored fur rolled over its muscular haunches as the biggest wolf she’d ever seen stepped toward her. It crept slowly, lowering its head and peering at her with piercing blue eyes.
“Not another one,” the voice echoed.
Though the intelligent look in the wolf’s gaze intrigued her, Macey didn’t hesitate when it bared its teeth and growled a warning. Spirit or no spirit, she needed to get the hell out of there.
She clenched her fists and opened her mind like she did when she read an object. The rapist’s face, with a snarling grin, flashed before her. The same man whose body went missing from the morgue. Without thinking, she grabbed on to the image and forced the parasite from her consciousness. Sharp pain ripped through her pores like she was sweating nails as the spirit left her body and circled above her head.
“Another time then.”
She didn’t have time to consider what had happened, and instead backed up carefully, never taking her gaze off the sapphire canine eyes. Something about the wolf seemed familiar, but she’d never seen it before. Had she dreamed of it? Seen it in one of her visions?
She inhaled sharply as the creature took another step toward her. Was this animal responsible for the horrific scene she so desperately wished to return to? If so, would she be its next victim? One foot behind the other, grasping at branches and tree trunks for support, she edged her way toward the house. When she reached the clearing, the wolf bowed its head and bounded away, deeper into the forest.
Once it was out of sight, Macey turned on her heels and sprinted for the house. She ran past Bryce and the body, took the stairs two at a time, and stopped on the porch. Heaving giant breaths, she leaned her hands against the railing and fought the urge to vomit yet a second time. What the hell had happened?
“You okay, Mace? You’re white as milk.” Bryce trotted to her side and placed his palm on her back. The warmth of his touch slowed her breathing enough for her to speak. But should she tell him about the spirit? Not yet. Not until she had time to process it.
“The woods. Back there.” She pointed to the thicket behind the house. “A wolf.” She turned to face her partner, resting her backside against the wooden rail. “I saw something in the forest. When I went
to check it out, a wolf was checking me out.”
“Are you hurt?” Bryce looked her over, concern dancing in his gaze.
“No. It growled at me, and I backed away. Do you think it could’ve…”
“Without a doubt. Wolves don’t normally attack people, but if they’re hungry, sick, or frightened enough, they will. Is it still out there?”
“No. It ran off as soon as I got to the clearing.” Finally catching her breath, she shuffled across the porch to look at the body. “I don’t know, Bryce. Why would a wolf just eat her abdomen?” And why would the ghost of a rapist be hanging out in the woods? “Wouldn’t it go for the throat first…you know…to kill its prey?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know. But right now, it’s all we’ve got. I’ll let the coroner know to be looking for teeth marks and animal hair. And next time…let me know before you take off like that. We’re partners.”
She stiffened. “I had it under control.”
“You also could’ve been eaten. No need to take chances like that when you’ve got a partner you can depend on. Sometimes it’s okay to ask for help.”
She smiled and patted his shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” But I can take care of myself.
Luke watched from the shadows as Macey climbed into the car with her partner. Had he imagined her eyes? When she’d frozen and started talking to the air in the forest, she seemed to…change. At first, she’d almost appeared to be in pain. Then her eyes had glowed red for a minute…
Nah. Couldn’t have.
They hadn’t been the same deep crimson of a demon. They had only seemed a little red, hadn’t they? It was a glare; that was all.
Whatever it was, he hated scaring her like that. But being in the forest alone with who-knew-how-many demons on the loose was dangerous. Deadly. He hadn’t thought about it at the time—his main goal had been Macey’s safety—but showing her his wolf form might have helped with the case.
At least the cops would be looking for an animal now rather than a murderer. And it might have bought him enough time to find the halfling that ripped its way out of the poor woman’s stomach before it caused any more trouble.
He jogged to his truck, which he’d parked at the last restaurant before the road turned to dirt, and ran a mental to-do list. He’d have to get James to check on the other females to be sure none of them were pregnant. The weres had stopped most of the demons before they could spill their seed, but he needed to be sure. The half demon body from the morgue was still missing, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that. The fiend would either come back or he wouldn’t.
Luke needed to get some rest. All the demon hunting had made him lose focus on his regular job, and the deadline for the current building renovation his crew was working on was only a week away.
And on top of all that, he had to figure out what to do about his growing feelings for the sexy detective. If he could act on instinct, he’d take her to his house and keep her there until he vanquished every last demon. The intense urge to protect her barely overshadowed the other urges he felt every time he looked at her.
But the pack came first. Always.
He growled as he started the truck. What was he going to do about that woman?
Chapter Ten
Macey sat alone in a corner booth at the Gumbo Place, perusing the menu as she sipped an iced sweet tea. After the gory scene she’d witnessed last night, and the nightmares that followed, the fact she even had an appetite this evening should have surprised her. But she’d tucked the ghastly incident into a compartment in the back of her mind, like she always did, and now her mouth watered at all the delicious temptations the menu offered.
Whatever had happened to her in the woods was a memory now. The spirit hadn’t tried to contact her since. In fact, she hadn’t sensed any spirits since the incident. The day had been so normal, she’d begun to doubt if her ghostly encounter had even happened.
Scooting to her right to avoid the tear in the faded, red vinyl seat, she scanned the restaurant, making note of her surroundings. Booths lined the walls of the large, open dining area, with tables scattered about the center. Zydeco music piped through the speakers, muffling the incessant hum of the overhead fluorescent lights, and patrons occupied four of the tables: a man at the table next to her, a couple in a booth by the window, and two families across the room.
The ambience wasn’t much, but this place had the best fried crawfish tails and étouffée in town. She ordered a dish that contained both her favorites and glanced up when the front door swung open. Her breath caught as Luke stepped across the threshold. He’d tied his light-brown hair back in a band, and a tight, heather gray T-shirt stretched across his chest. An intricate tattoo on his bicep peeked from beneath his sleeve. Heat flushed her cheeks as the image of him shirtless skittered through her mind. Did he have any more tattoos?
He looked right at her. Macey averted her gaze, staring intently at her hands folded on the table. Maybe he didn’t catch her looking. She ignored him as long as was politely possible, but when his approach was obviously directed to her, she lifted her eyes and smiled.
“Hi, Macey. Is this seat taken?” He gestured to the bench across from her.
She shook her head. A minute motion, but he must’ve picked up on it because he slid into the seat and folded his hands on the table to match her posture. The waitress approached and set a glass of tea in front of him.
“Good evening, Luke.” She grinned at him and offered a menu, but he waved it away.
“I’ll have the same as the beautiful lady here.”
The waitress shrugged and shot a heated glance at Macey. “Suit yourself.” She turned on her heel and strutted away.
What was that about? Wait…had Luke called her beautiful? She hardly knew the man, but the words he’d uttered shot thrilling tingles to her core. He shouldn’t have affected her that way. Not that soon. And especially not after he’d blown her off the way he had. She smoothed her hair toward her bun, hoping to smooth the thoughts from her head. “You don’t even know what I ordered.”
He raised a shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “I trust your taste. Everything’s good here anyway.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you trust me, do you?”
He cleared his voice. “I said I trust your taste.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Leaning back in the booth, he stretched his arm across the back of the seat. “If you don’t mind my asking, why are you alone again? No friends to hang out with?” He winked as if to show he was joking, but the truth of his statement stung.
“Honestly? I’ve always been kind of a loner.” Her ears burned with embarrassment, but she didn’t know why. Her lack of a social life was no secret at the station. She kept everyone but her parents at arm’s length. She’d turned down so many invitations, her coworkers rarely asked her to hang out anymore. This virtual stranger’s opinion shouldn’t have mattered so much to her.
But it did.
He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any—”
“It’s okay.” Her hard shrug made her bounce in her seat. “I’ve never really felt like I fit in anywhere. I’ve gotten used to it.”
She picked up her glass and gulped down the contents, hoping to end the conversation. Their food arriving saved her from the awkward moment, and from Luke’s response.
The waitress set the plates down and touched Luke’s elbow. “It’s good to see you again.”
He inclined his head toward her. “You as well, Jackie. This is all we need.” He all but dismissed her. She pursed her lips, trained her gaze on the floor, and scurried away. The pair obviously had some sort of history, though Macey didn’t dare ask. She didn’t want to know if they’d dated. For some reason, the image of Luke in the arms of that woman—of any woman—made her shudder. Possessiveness clutched at her heart, but why? He didn’t belong to her any more than the man at the table next to them.
And she didn’t want him. Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that?
Luke looked at the plate in front of him. “Good choice. One of my favorites.” The corner of his mouth pulled into a wicked grin. “Of course, I like everything here.”
His gaze locked with hers, and her heart stuttered. Was he implying he liked her? Surely he wasn’t. She scooped a forkful of étouffée into her mouth and savored the flavor explosion on her tongue. The zing of spicy crawfish danced on her taste buds, and she closed her eyes to relish the moment. Opening them again, she found him grinning at her.
“What?” She wiped her mouth with the napkin.
“Nothing.” He picked up his fork and pushed the food around on his plate. “You really enjoy your food, don’t you?”
“I savor the things that bring me pleasure.”
“Words to live by.”
Luke stabbed the crawfish tails and shoved them into his mouth. What the hell was he doing flirting with the detective again? He was either out of his mind or masochistic, but he couldn’t help it. The more he got to know her, the more enamored of her he became. He adored everything about her, from the way she closed her eyes with each bite she took to the way her brow furrowed when she caught him staring at her.
When werewolves found their fate-bound mates, they felt an instant connection. Others had described it as an overpowering sense of possessiveness. Protectiveness. A basal instinct to grab hold of the other person and never let her go. A feeling of completeness that could only be achieved with the person as his mate.
In the past, werewolves couldn’t mate with anyone but their fate-bound, and if they didn’t find the one they connected with on that primal level, they spent their lives alone. The law was meant to ensure the strength of the species, but with so few weres finding that deep connection with another, the threat of extinction forced the congress to change the law.
Now they could mate with anyone they chose, but they had to mate for life. Unless they were part of the alpha bloodline. No dilution allowed.
Werewolves Only Page 6
