Ravenheart (Crossbreed Series Book 2)

by Dannika Dark

  “Must be why I smell all the cleaning products.” I turned in a circle. Glass had held on to his mother’s antiquated style after her death, but it was good for him to finally gut the house and make it a place of his own. It had a lot of potential.

  “Hope you like steak!” he shouted.

  “Sounds great.” I took a swig of beer and grimaced.

  If Glass lived in the human district, it made me wonder how many neighbors I’ve had who were immortals. I could see the allure of privacy, but it seemed like a hassle having to deal with property tax and human laws. Even though I was once human, I wouldn’t live with humans if I didn’t have to. I’d rather live in an isolated place, like Keystone. No homeowners’ association to worry about, no tax, no neighborhood watch, I can sit on my roof without someone calling the police.

  I poked my head through the open door of the front room and switched on a light. Nothing to see but damask wallpaper in vintage green, crown molding, baroque furniture, and dozens of china plates with painted flowers sitting inside a curio. I could imagine Glass’s mother sitting in the chair, cross-stitching and gazing out the front window at children playing in the street.

  This place looked like a museum—as if his mother had never left. Hopefully the remodeling upstairs would move this house into the current century. Everything I’d seen so far looked like something out of a Jane Austen book.

  I took a leisurely stroll toward the kitchen and passed a short hall on the right. There were three doors on each wall—the one at the end leading to a bathroom. I peeked inside the two rooms and saw nothing but storage boxes. Glass didn’t come from a big family, yet the house made me think they were holding out for grandkids.

  While Glass was busy in the kitchen, I turned around and went to the table where he’d laid down his wallet. You could learn a lot about a man by what he carried in his wallet and glove compartment, and since I didn’t have the keys to his car, my nosy self wanted to go through his personal things.

  I stroked my fingers over the black leather. Would I find family photographs? Nudie pics? Business cards? Fast-food coupons? Some of the men I’d killed kept a list of women’s phone numbers written on paper or the back of a business card. Pretty old fashioned. Most Breeds only needed one credit card with their alias that worked in all Breed locations. I suppose part of me just wanted to make sure he wasn’t a jerk who had booty-call numbers tucked away with a condom.

  “Raven?”

  I snapped my hand back and glanced up. Glass stood in the hall with a butcher knife in his hand.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you like potatoes?”

  Chapter 22

  Wyatt crunched on another piece of popcorn, his thoughts drifting as he stared at his computer screen. He knew all the warnings about creating personal relationships with specters since the dead were unstable, and he’d done a good job at ignoring the ones living in the mansion. But John was asking more questions and had taken the liberty of entering Wyatt’s computer room without permission.

  Despite the violation of his personal space, Wyatt couldn’t complain. John had knowledge about computers and had given him some tips when he was going through Penny’s files. Though John had no memory of his life, he certainly knew his way around criminology and organizing a sting operation.

  Between the two of them, they’d come up with the plan to use Blue as bait. While it was Wyatt’s idea to glean information from Penny’s profile and put it in Blue’s bio, John was the one who suggested answering all correspondence the way Penny would—using similar phrases and tone. Eventually, John would grow listless discussing the case and drift into the halls in search of the red room.

  Specters were like that. Some had short attention spans and wandering minds. It wasn’t unlike dealing with humans with dementia. Sometimes they stayed angry for ten years, and other times their emotions flickered on and off like a light switch. He liked John, but that didn’t mean he wanted to live with him. It wasn’t fair to build a friendship with him. The more specters tethered themselves to the living, the less likely they were to move on to wherever souls are supposed to go.

  Wyatt propped his feet on his desk, ankles crossed, and munched on another handful of popcorn. Viktor made concessions about Wyatt’s snacking since he spent a lot of time in his computer room. Everyone else’s assignments usually took them out of the house, and Wyatt didn’t like making repeated trips to the kitchen. He’d lose focus if in the middle of something, so he kept his own little stash of treats up here. Usually chips, but he loved Raisinets and always hid a box in his drawer.

  John had taken off earlier and left Wyatt to some peace and quiet.

  “Niko needs to stop feeding that damn feral cat,” Shepherd grumbled as he ambled into the room and sat on the sofa. “I saw that little rat chaser prancing around in the driveway again.”

  Wyatt spun around in his leather chair to face him, white cheese coating his hand. “What size skirt do you wear?”

  Shepherd’s eyebrows sloped down. “Viktor mentioned something about a party. If you put me in a dress, I’ll put you in the ground.”

  Wyatt brushed off Shepherd’s threat. “Our attendance is required, so be sure to bathe. Might as well shave your legs while you’re at it. We have a suspect, and Blue’s going in as bait.”

  “Then she needs to dress up as an Indian princess and carry her tomahawk.”

  “That’s not going to fly. Romeo thinks she’s a blonde, so she’s got to wear something appropriate with that wig.”

  Shepherd widened his legs and spread his arms across the back of the L-shaped couch. “Romeo,” he said, as if it was a curse.

  “Why do you think he’d invite her to a blasted ball? That’s pretty ballsy.” Wyatt smirked at his play on words.

  Shepherd twisted his right arm and examined his phoenix tattoo. “Killers want respect. They can’t get a thrill unless they top themselves, and that’s what has me uneasy about this situation. What better place to create a stir than a party with the most elite people in the city? Maybe he wants everyone to know he’s out there and he’s not getting enough attention.”

  “Must be an only child,” Wyatt said absently. “Everyone needs to charge their phones so we can stay in communication. You can hook them up in here overnight. Since the killer’s a Vamp, we can only send text messages.”

  “Gem isn’t happy about this situation,” Blue said, drifting into the room.

  Wyatt hiccupped. “It’s not her call. This isn’t recreational. We need to wear the same matching costume so we can find each other in the crowd. Even if someone else there is rocking a tartan, they won’t be in the design I picked out.”

  “I shudder to think,” Shepherd added.

  Blue straddled the stool next to Wyatt. “She wants us to all go as wizards. Why not indulge the girl?”

  Wyatt spun a tiny lock of his hair between two fingers. “Capes and staffs don’t exactly stand out at a costume ball. It’s too late; I’ve already placed the order. Anyhow, do I look like a jerk? I think I did the ladies justice. You’ll see.”

  Wyatt admired Blue’s cleavage when she bent over to tug at her boot, but he was a man and it couldn’t be helped, though he did try to be discreet about it. She might have thought dressing in a pair of cargo pants and a tank top wouldn’t attract attention, but a tent couldn’t hide the fact that Blue had a body made for sin.

  Shepherd cleared his throat, and when Wyatt looked up, Shepherd slowly shook his head and stared daggers at him.

  Wyatt lifted the popcorn bag and stared at the remaining kernels at the bottom. “You’re going as Cinderella,” he informed Blue.

  Her eyes flashed up. “I don’t know about this. Why can’t we arrange to meet him somewhere else?”

  “Afraid of a little perfume and blush? It won’t kill you to put on a dress and act like a woman.”

  She sharpened her gaze at him. “It just might if my date turns out to be the serial killer.”

  Shepherd leaned forwa
rd, elbows on his knees. “Don’t go anywhere alone with this guy, and don’t look him in the eye. If he’s got anything devious in mind, he’ll want to do it in private. We need to stay close and gather enough evidence to incriminate him without putting you in danger.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Blue assured him. “I’ll find a place up my dress to hide a weapon. Do you really think this guy’s the killer?”

  Wyatt tossed the bag of popcorn into a small wastebasket beneath his desk and dusted off his hands. “Based on the dialogue we had, I think he is. The last email he sent Penny was after she gave him her phone number, and we don’t have access to her text or recorded messages because she didn’t use a cell. Some people can’t let go of landlines.”

  Shepherd cracked his knuckles. “Did you look at the phone records for a list of incoming and outgoing calls?”

  “He had a shield on his number. In most cases, caller ID will show unknown or whatever, but the records with the phone company list the number. Because of how most of us get our phones and operate them, we’re able to cloak our privacy. I bounced a few ideas back and forth with John, but I’ve got nothing. If she knew his number, she either put it to memory or wrote it down.”

  Blue gripped the edge of her stool between her legs. “It’s too late to fly back to Washington now. But if this Romeo turns out to be a dead end, we’ll have no choice but to search her house again.”

  Shepherd pulled out a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Who the hell’s John?”

  Wyatt wiggled his fingers in front of his face. “John. And no smoking in Wyatt’s World.”

  Shepherd rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t believe everything they say. I heard they’re tricksters. If I were dead and stuck in limbo, I’d probably be fucking with everyone’s head too.”

  “If you ever die, stay away from me.”

  Shepherd grinned, and it was wolfish. “You’ll be the first person I hunt down and tuck in at night.”

  A chill danced up Wyatt’s spine. Shepherd Moon was just the sort of guy who would do something like that. He looked like a hardened criminal, and the worst of it was that Wyatt didn’t really know much about what made him that way. Shepherd didn’t open up to people, and everyone kept their skeletons locked up tight. Keystone was a chance to start anew—a place where no one would judge you for your sins or pity your circumstances. And Wyatt knew all about digging up old bones. He didn’t have anyone left in this world, not even his nine sisters. Sometimes it was best to let the past stay buried.

  A burst of movement flew into the room, and Wyatt nearly fell out of his chair. John reminded him of Bluto from Popeye—without the beard—because of his muscles. It was a funny thing. The dead were separated from their bodies, but they still held on to the image of themselves. Occasionally those who died old would flicker back and forth between their younger and aged selves.

  “I saw him,” John said.

  “Him who?”

  “Huh?” Blue asked.

  Wyatt waved his hand. “Not you.”

  John began pacing back and forth, and yet Wyatt could still see through him—enough to notice Shepherd giving him the stink eye from the sofa. He gave Wyatt a hard time about the spooks; he didn’t like it when Wyatt held conversations with them and ignored the living.

  “Saw who?” Wyatt repeated.

  “The man you’re looking for. I saw him.”

  Wyatt used his feet to walk his chair forward. “You saw the killer? The same one as the night in the parking lot when you hitched a ride in our van?”

  “What did I just say?”

  “Sometimes it’s easy to get times and places mixed up.”

  John inched forward. “Do you want the info or not? I can’t guarantee I’ll remember it thirty minutes from now.”

  “What’s he saying?” Blue asked.

  Wyatt folded his arms. “Where did you see him?”

  John jerked his thumb toward the door. “Downstairs.”

  Wyatt blanched. “You saw the killer downstairs? Here?”

  The tension in the room snapped like a live wire when Shepherd launched to his feet.

  John raked his fingers through his wavy black hair. “Affirmative.”

  Could he be mistaken? Wyatt stood up and looked at Shepherd. “Where’s Christian?”

  Shepherd’s brown eyes narrowed. “I saw him downstairs a few minutes ago. He was heading out.”

  Wyatt swung his gaze over to John. “Describe the guy you saw.”

  “Tall, long trench coat—”

  “Trench coat?” Wyatt repeated. “Are you sure?”

  “Fuck!” Shepherd erupted, pointing at the door. “We should have never trusted that Vamp.”

  John flicked his gaze to the side, but he didn’t turn around to look at Shepherd. “It wasn’t a Vampire.”

  Wyatt cocked his head. “Say again?”

  “He looked like a Chitah, but I can’t be sure.”

  Now this was becoming confusing as hell, especially since he had no idea that John knew about Breed. “Claude?”

  “What?” Blue exclaimed, springing out of her seat. “Claude would never—”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Wyatt said, holding up his hands. “We’re getting our wires mixed up. John, you’re probably confusing the past with the present.”

  Which didn’t go over well with his ghostly friend.

  “Keep your remarks in check, brother. It was the same man your boss spoke to in the parking lot. Short hair, golden eyes…”

  Then it dawned on Wyatt. “Wait a minute, do you mean Detective Glass?” He gave Shepherd a loaded glance. “Was he just here?”

  Shepherd crackled his knuckles. “They took off. Raven didn’t want him inside for too long. She was afraid Viktor wouldn’t like it, so she grabbed her purse and made him wait by the door.”

  “Leaning against the statue like a smug son of a bitch,” John added.

  “By the statue,” Shepherd said, unaware the ghost was talking. “I told him to step off. Viktor doesn’t like people touching his pieces.”

  The comment almost made Wyatt want to snort, but if this was true… “Claude never picked up another scent at the crime scene.”

  Blue shook her head. “Glass was always the first one there. Claude automatically ruled out his scent.”

  “But he’s a detective. Why would he go around killing girls and then operating the investigation?”

  “To have complete control,” Shepherd answered. “Ever heard of those sicko firemen who start fires so they can be the hero and put them out? He’s probably the one who made the anonymous calls so he could have complete control over the crime scene. Jesus. This is one big clusterfuck.”

  “But the bite marks on the neck… it doesn’t make sense.”

  Blue pinched her chin, eyes downcast. “They could have been Chitah fangs. We know one victim was a Mage, and that would make total sense. If he bit her with two fangs, it would have paralyzed her. If they knew each other, she wouldn’t have struggled. Maybe after he paralyzed them he killed them another way.”

  “Or maybe he bit her again in the same spot,” Shepherd suggested. “He didn’t want anyone knowing her identity. Leaving four puncture marks would have been a red flag that she was a Mage, and we’d be looking for a Chitah instead of a Vampire. Regulators usually don’t issue autopsies, but detectives might. I bet he volunteered. The last victim was a Chitah, so he couldn’t kill her with venom. It doesn’t work like that. He impaled her through the heart, and she died from that and blood loss.”

  “But why her?” Blue asked.

  Wyatt rumpled his hair. “Glass had no choice in our involvement. Maybe he was afraid he left behind clues, so he found someone to pin it on. Pretty convenient since both he and Raven could testify they last saw the victim with Christian.”

  The energy spiked in the room as they looked amongst each other.

  “Son of a ghost,” Wyatt said on a soft breath. “Raven just went out with the killer. This isn
’t good.”

  “Text her,” Shepherd urged.

  John shook his head at Wyatt. “I wouldn’t do that. He’s a Chitah. If you tip her off while they’re together, he’ll pick it up in her scent.”

  “How the hell do you know so much about Breed?” Wyatt asked.

  Blue snapped her fingers in front of Wyatt’s face. “Your friend did well, but stay with the living. We need to summon her without raising suspicion.”

  “What if he’s busy driving her off to a parking lot to kill her?”

  “He wouldn’t be that stupid,” Shepherd muttered.

  “Agreed,” John said. “He’s probably using her to get information.”

  Blue strode toward the door. “I disagree. Men do stupid things all the time. We can’t tell her it’s related to the case, or he’ll get suspicious since he is the case. I’m going to go speak with Viktor.”

  Wyatt wanted to pat John on the back, but he didn’t technically have one. Instead, he gave the spirit an appreciative nod. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 23

  When my phone vibrated, I was tempted to shut it off. But it was Viktor, and I couldn’t ignore his call. I discreetly drifted into a dark corner of the sitting room in Glass’s house and sent my reply.

  Viktor: Where are you?

  Raven: Out with a friend.

  Viktor: I need you back right away.

  Raven: Why?

  Viktor: A kidnapping case.

  Raven: That’s not my primary case right now. Can’t it wait?

  The delicious aroma of dinner wafted into the room. Why did it seem like the universe wanted to intervene with my date? The longer Viktor took to reply, the more upset I became. Glass probably couldn’t smell my emotions from a different room, especially with dinner beneath his nose, but just in case, I crept up the stairs to put distance between us. Some Chitahs were better than others when it came to reading emotions. Hopefully Glass had a dull nose.

  Viktor never summoned anyone home for a meeting. He always filled us in later. And why would he want me working on a kidnapping? I had more personal experience with murders than abductions.