That pulled Brenna up short. “He was murdered?”
Gray nodded. “Seraph said Xavier was the latest victim of the Kenaz killer.”
“Oh God.” Anger scorched her blood. He would have died horribly, his body barely recognizable. “Where did they find him?”
“Someone shipped him to Taskforce headquarters.”
IRT Headquarters was one place a hunter’s safety was assured. A refuge the outside world had been unable to touch. Until now.
Brenna made her way through the maze of tunnels. She felt bereft, not just at Xavier’s death, but because her sanctuary had been compromised by it. Someone had invaded their haven and marked it with the corpse of one of their own.
She stopped just shy of the reception area. The icy shell that sheltered her heart threatened to crack and overwhelm her, but she held steady, taking deep breaths, shutting her emotions down.
She had been through worse. Had lost more. Suffered more. She would get through this. Gray waited until she was ready.
It was quiet as they stepped from the tunnels into the front hall. Lucy slipped from her glass cave. The gargoyle was a Jill of all trades. She had spent twenty years passing as a human coroner. Now she played the dual roles of receptionist and medical examiner for the IRT. She didn’t mind the extra workload. Gargoyles didn’t need much sleep.
Lucy waved for them to follow. She puttered down a white tile passageway away from Brenna’s office. Brenna could already smell the latex from the investigator’s protective gear. It made things far too real.
One foot in front of the other, she told herself as she followed Gray and Lucy down the winding corridor. She wasn’t a fan of murder scenes. They brought back memories better left stuffed behind years of repression. The desire to flee always came back with suffocating force.
But this was Xavier. Her friend. Her partner.
Seraph had said his test results were concerning, but she had just done a job with him and he had been more than capable. Whatever had taken him down was more powerful than they had imagined.
A murmur of voices trickled through the hall, Seraph’s above the rest. She was perhaps the only one there who knew him well enough to recognize the pain in his tone. This was difficult for him. Xavier had been like a son.
They arrived at the mail room. Lucy left them, taking a different exit. The small square space was filled to the brim with men and women dressed like overstuffed pillows, the latex of their suits mixing with the strong scent of blood and ash. They circled around a box, approximately three feet tall and wide, covered with shiny gold and black wrapping paper. The lid lay to the left, a large black bow plastered to the top.
What kind of sick bastard wrapped up a body like a present?
Brenna stumbled over the piles of mail strewn across the floor. Seraph grabbed her arm and she froze, realizing she had almost contaminated the scene.
“What happened?” she asked him. “The last time I saw Xavier he was taking a victim to rehab.” She swallowed hard as blood now spilled onto the tile from the bottom of the box like an overturned bottle of Cabernet. Gray squeezed her arm in support.
“There’s no way his body could fit in there,” she said, half to herself.
Seraph frowned. “No body. Just blood and ash. A damn soup.”
“How do you know it was Xavier?”
“There was no mistake. Trust me.” Seraph paused, closing his eyes. “They sent his head in a different box. It turned into ash when we touched it. What’s left is in the lab.”
Gray cut in. “You said you thought the Kenaz killer did this?”
“He left his calling card. You can see it as soon as it gets analyzed.”
“Does that mean we’re on the case?” Brenna asked. A single look at those files could save her days of research.
Seraph studied her. She already knew his answer. “No. You’re too close.” He crossed his arms. “I need you and Gray to go over the evidence with Lucy. They used non-terran magic that needs to be catalogued. Might be Shadow Bearer. But under no circumstances are you to go after Xavier’s killer. I’ve put the best I have on it.”
Brenna glared at the overhead light, a frustrated breath rattling in her throat. Once Seraph made up his mind, he didn’t change it. She wanted to scream in frustration, but it was pointless.
“At least assign someone competent,” she said. “The death toll is rising.”
He slipped off his gray suit jacket and draped it over his arm, ignoring her. “Let’s go see Lucy.”
They followed him down to the forensics lab, just down the hall past enchantment research. Lucy was already there, her white lab coat glowing in the florescent lights. She leaned over a metal stretcher custom built for her height. A tub of blood sat atop the flat surface, a box of ash at its side.
As Brenna stepped inside the air seemed to curl and thicken into a dirty mist of sediment. It burned her eyes, stuck to the back of her throat. Coughing, she stumbled back. “Poison,” she gasped.
She grabbed her throat as it constricted from lack of oxygen and fled back into the hall, Gray beside her. It was a feeling she had experienced once before. “Poison,” she said again. Drawing in several jerky breaths, she turned to Seraph. “Why didn’t you warn us?”
Seraph shook his head, obviously concerned. “I didn’t know. Readings were negative. It didn’t affect anyone else.” He grabbed two gas masks from the lab and handed one to her, the other to Gray, before they went back inside. “What is it?”
“It’s called Quietus. It’s made from the ash of demons.” Gray’s eyes were blood shot, tears streaming from their corners. “In its purest form it would be fatal to either of us on contact. But it should only be fatal to others if they ingested it. This has to be some kind of milder derivative, but still dangerous.”
They moved deeper into the lab. “Can the toxin be grown on this plane?” Seraph asked.
Gray shook his head. “No. The plants involved are indigenous to our world. They would have had to smuggle it out. There are several portals that connect Earth to our plane, but you’d have to be extremely powerful or have the help of the Council to use them. Our people have been moving between the planes for centuries, but it’s been tightly controlled in this world since the Fall.”
Brenna looked at Gray. She would bet her life he hadn’t been on this plane long. If he had passed through one of the portals with the help of the Council, he was here for a purpose, not a visit. She would be surprised if that purpose didn’t lead straight to her.
She tried to read Seraph, but his stoic expression gave away nothing. “You can’t think I had something to do with this?” She paused, sucking down the bile in her throat. “Is that why you won’t let me be part of the investigation?”
“You always think the worst of me.” Seraph shook his head. “I trust you, Brenna. Never doubt that.” He sighed. “Do you have any enemies who may have followed you here? Is there anyone who hates you enough to do this?”
Gray snorted. “It would take days to make that list.”
“Those without sin shall cast the first stone.” Seraph quipped. His hand fell on Brenna’s shoulders. “If my loved ones were ripped apart, I would probably do the same thing. It’s not my place to judge.”
“You’re one of the few who feel that way.” She glanced at Gray. By all accounts, she had killed at least three hundred men. But she had no memory of it, only the events that had precipitated the massacre. She held her breath and lifted her mask so she could better examine the remains. The residue from the poison stung her eyes, but it had dissipated enough to be bearable. Xavier’s ashes held the signature greenish tint from the toxin.
She let her eyes slip closed and focused on the texture of the residue. The poison had to be mixed with blood to work. This made it easy to trace the substance back to the original creator. It was not commonly used because of this risk. The poison had been invented by her people, yet here there was no hint of Shadow Bearer blood. Instead the ashes held the
stench of another creature.
“Demon.” She looked to Seraph. “I don’t know how, but the ash reeks of manticore blood.”
“Host blood?” Seraph asked.
“No possession. Pure demon blood.” She moved away from the table, replacing her mask.
“She’s right. The scent is too strong to be anything else.” Gray moved beside her. “The Veil must be torn. It’s the only way they could survive here without a host.”
“Impossible. The Guardians would have sounded the alarm.” Seraph moved away from the examination table. “Even if the Guardians were dead, we’d have noticed the destruction. A matter sucking chasm isn’t something you easily miss.”
Gray nodded. “True. But there’s no other explanation.”
“There has to be.” Brenna sighed. This was not the place to discuss a breach in the Veil. She liked Lucy, but the gargoyle was the worst gossip on the team. She had stopped working a while back just so she wouldn’t miss a word of their conversation. “We should leave Lucy to her work.”
Seraph nodded as they left. They made their way to Brenna’s office to continue the discussion. Brenna tossed her coat onto the back of her chair. “Demons aren’t smart enough to organize and execute these types of killings. They’re primal, bordering on instinctual. They would need help—.”
“—from a Shadow Bearer,” Seraph finished. “Which is why I can’t have you on the case. There have been traces of Shadow magic at every crime scene. My men can’t differentiate between yours and the killer’s. Having you involved might contaminate the scenes.”
“But you don’t have anyone capable of bringing a Shadow Bearer down. You need our help.”
Seraph blocked the door to the office. He placed a hand on either side of the frame. A shimmering wave sealed the door, then the rest of the room, giving them absolute privacy. He turned back to them. “I agree. I believe the Veil is torn, but I can’t prove it. I don’t know why it’s different this time, but it is. The resources of this world have not recovered enough to survive another war. You are the only ones that can help me stop it. That’s why I put you two together. At some point I’m going to need you. We all are.”
“So if we die, the world dies?” Chilled, Brenna crossed her arms as she met Seraph’s eyes. “No pressure there.”
“Pressure is all we’ve got. The Veil opening, the murders, the increase in demon possessions have to be connected and I don’t have anyone more qualified on that front. If we find the source of the possessions, it might also lead to the murders and stop what is happening with the Veil.”
She had known him too long not to know when he was holding out. “You found something, didn’t you?” She studied him. “Something that ties everything together.”
At first he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Then, with a sigh, he slipped a hand into his tailored pants and pulled out an evidence bag not unlike the one in Lucy’s lab that had contained the killer’s letter.
“I haven’t shown this to anyone.” He laid it in her palm. “It is up to you what to do with it.”
She opened the bag when she saw what was inside. Heart pounding, she pulled the pendant and chain free. Her other hand was drawn to the necklace she wore with the exact same pendant. It had been her husband’s and, although she kept it covered by glamour, she always wore it as a reminder of his death.
Whoever the bastard was, he had her number. The pendant was the only part of her past she had been unable to let go.
Seraph watched her carefully, as if he were afraid she would snap. “Is it yours?”
Ignoring his question, Brenna picked up her duster from the beat up aluminum chair. “Forward the files to me. Give my runs to someone else. I’m taking the day off.”
“I’ll get you what I have,” Seraph replied. “But this stays between us. My orders to keep you off the case came from way above my pay grade.” So, he was letting her pursue this after all. It just couldn’t be official. Fine by her.
“I’m keeping this.” Brenna held up the pendant. “It may have some residue I can scry.”
He nodded. “Let me know what you find.” He swiped the air and the privacy bubble dissipated. “Be careful. Don’t go after him until you have back up.”
“I won’t let her do anything stupid.” Gray’s eyes, however, were fixed on the pendant swinging on her fingers.
Seraph stepped out into the hallway. “Keep yourselves alive.”
Suspicions rose as Brenna studied Gray. Surely Seraph had checked him out. They didn’t give just anyone a badge. But how could she have missed two Shadow Bearers crossing through the Veil? Even if they had cloaked their presence she should have felt the disturbance or, at the very least, the call of their blood.
“I don’t know where to start,” she grumbled to herself.
Gray settled in one of her chairs, his heels made a sharp ping as they dropped on top of her desk. “Make a list of anyone strong enough to cross the Veil without the Council and a list of all the people who hate you enough to pull off something like this. Cross reference the two and see who is left. Should only be, what, six or seven thousand names?”
“Despite popular belief, I’m not universally hated.”
At least she didn’t think so. Immortals had a long memory, but it had been over ninety years since her banishment. What she had done had helped prolong an already endless war. But no one had cried tears for the men who died. They hadn’t deserved them.
Gray gestured at the pendant still clutched in her hand. “What’s the significance?”
She looked down at the replica, trying to find an appropriate response. “It was a gift from my husband the night he was killed.” Reaching forward, she handed it to him. “You can keep it. It’s not real.”
He cocked a brow. “How do you know?”
“I just do.” She grabbed a pink duffle bag next to the filing cabinet and filled it with her essential papers. “Let’s get out of here. I can smell Xavier’s blood, and it’s making me want to kill something.”
Gray grinned. “Demon hunting might help. I wouldn’t mind getting my hands bloody.”
“I’d be afraid I’d kill the host. If you’re craving violence, you can get that at home.”
With a snort he followed her back to the parking lot. The drive home was made in silence, Brenna contemplating her next step. Leaving Gray in his room, Brenna sought comfort in some solitude of her own. She tried to calm her nerves, but whenever she managed to reach a restful state the next breath brought horrible images of the past.
It had taken nearly fifty years to come to terms with what she had done. When her father’s men killed her husband, she had slipped into a rage so great nothing could break through. Even now in the theater of her mind, rage simmered in her blood. Those men deserved to die. Her only regret was that she had not gone straight to the Council, forcing them to act and serve justice.
Instead she had destroyed the men her father had sent to attack her new family. And when at last she reached the Council, she’d been blamed for the whole affair, as though she was the mastermind. Her father had laughed, told her he had more men, then ordered Orien, his general, to be executed for the loss. It would have hurt less had he impaled her on his sword.
Brenna slammed the door. She hated being a delusional ninny. Dunham was dead and she could never return home. She needed to move on. She couldn’t waste another hundred years mourning the impossible.
The marriage had been a sacrifice on both sides—the mating of the two most powerful clans, the Vires and the Sors. Two clans that had been at war for as long as she could remember. It should have brought peace. But her father had ensured it would bring only death. She had been both the sacrificial lamb and the scapegoat on his altar of hate.
He had given her no choice, threatening to kill her if she disobeyed. But she had seen it as a sacrifice for the good of their people. Had believed it would bring reconciliation. When she had been presented to Dunham, her body had shook with trepidation. But when they we
re alone, away from prying eyes, she learned that beneath the stern exterior lay a man who wanted what was best for his people as well. They had shared their first blood oath and she accepted him as her mate. The ceremony marked the beginning of a process that would tie their souls together in an unbreakable bond. Dunham had died before the ritual had been completed, so their bond could be severed.
Perhaps it was denial or stupidity, but once the rage had subsided she’d refused to accept he was dead. There wasn’t the gaping hole in her soul others felt, even without the completion of the bond. Sadness, yes, but there was an underlying belief that one day she would see him again. Perhaps that was true—in death.
Sick of self-pity, she threw on a pair of old jeans and a tight wool sweater and decided to hunt Gray out. He hadn’t stayed in his room. She found him in what had once been a study. Now it was more like walk-in junk drawer with a table in the center. He looked up as she pressed open the door.
Gray waved her to a chair. He was looking through a sheaf of paper. “Seraph had a runner drop off the files. I’ve been going over them.” He stopped to pick up the plate that lay beside him. “Marissa made cookies, want one?”
Brenna made a mental note to check on Marissa. Cookies only came when she needed to occupy her hands while she worked through a problem. Grabbing one, she slid into the chair.
“What are we looking at?” The pages seemed like gibberish. Numbers, symbols and letters arranged in no particular pattern.
“I’m going back over the older murders to find a connection between the victims. The nature of the killings should tell us when the demons became involved.”
She shook her head. “Seraph would have already spotted those things. What did his reports say?”
“It’s not even mentioned. The team he assigned didn’t know what they were looking for.” He paused. “We do.” He leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head. His enthusiasm was catching. “I’m guessing, but I’d say you noticed something?” Brenna leaned forward and puzzled over the drawing the Kenaz killer had made. It made her brain hurt, but eventually things began to click into place.
Shadows of Fate (Shadow Born) Page 5
