Ackerman's mouth opened as if she was going to reply, but she didn't. I heard her panting softly.
Shit.
She was going to fucking shift.
I felt Lenorre withdraw her energy, her power like a gentle, cool night breeze.
"Ackerman," I tried again, her eyes were almost drowning in dark chocolate and amber now. "Fucking hell, Ackerman, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Get your shit under control."
She crossed her arms over her chest, the toned muscles of her forearms jumping slightly. If I thought I could have helped her by touching her, I might've, but touching her would've only made matters worse, would've magnified the energy between us. So I didn't. I kept my hands to myself and focused on shielding like a son of a bitch.
Her nostrils flared, but she did what I told her, she exhaled through her mouth.
"Look at me." I made my voice low, but firm.
Ackerman looked at me.
"Don't you dare," I said. "Not here, not in front of the cops."
The blue in her eyes receded, like watching sand swallowing water and not the other way around.
Ackerman pushed off the wall and without a word headed down the hallway.
"Where are you going?" I heard Arthur say before Ackerman replied, "Fresh air."
Arthur stepped in the doorway. "What'd you say to her, Kass?"
"Nothing," I said.
"Yeah, right," he said. "The day you say nothing is the day I'm joining a convent and becoming a nun."
I looked at him for several moments. "That's just so you."
"We're going to the other scene. You and Vampira can follow me."
"I have a name, Detective."
"So do I," Arthur said, "and it's not Detective."
"Would you prefer I drop the courtesy of using your title?"
"You can call me Arthur."
"And you can most assuredly call me something other than Vampira."
Arthur looked thoughtful. In fact, he looked so thoughtful I feared he was going to hurt himself.
"You wouldn't take to Fangs, would you?"
"Would you take to Stench?" she asked, sounding very serious. "Two can play that game, Detective."
"You called me Detective again," he said, obviously toying with Lenorre. I sighed, resisting the urge to bury my face in my hands.
"Did I?" she asked, swinging from serious to disinterest.
I finally interrupted. "Can we continue this episode of Fangs and Stench at the next crime scene?"
They both looked at me and I returned their looks with an impatient one of my own.
"Arthur," I said finally, "stop baiting her."
"Okay, Kassie," he said, grinning like a twelve-year-old boy.
"I could hit you in the face for calling me that."
"Wow. That hit a nerve."
"You think?" It was one of the few nicknames that would piss me off in a heartbeat. I let Arthur see that.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll stop baiting you, Lenorre."
"I would appreciate that, Arthur."
"Great, now that you've both proven you know each other's names, let's go," I said.
We were already out of the room when Arthur asked, "Wait, do I really stink?"
Lenorre and I both ignored him.
On the way down the hall, she touched my arm lightly. "You did well in there."
"Thanks for tolerating Arthur's sense of humor," I said, ignoring the praise or whatever it was.
"Ah," she said, "his sense of humor is fairly harmless."
"You say that now," I said. "Wait until after you've been subjected to it for over an hour."
CHAPTER seven
e ended up on the southwest side of Oklahoma City in some housing addition between MacArthur and Meridian. It was an unfamiliar area to me. Granted, I've lived in Oklahoma all my life, doesn't mean I've seen every nook and cranny of it.
I put the car in park and unfastened my seat belt. We'd driven in silence so far. I broke that silence now, parked behind Arthur's Crown Victoria.
"What is Ackerman?" I asked Lenorre.
"You could not tell?"
"I can tell she's a shape-shifter, just not what kind, and I was too reluctant to touch her to find out."
"I was not close enough to her to sense precisely what she was. At a glance of her beast, I would say that she is a fox."
I was nodding my agreement when a loud metallic clink startled me at my window.
"Fucking ass," I said, swinging my door open and trying to hit Arthur with it. He moved out of the way with a chuckle.
"Made you jump." He grinned.
"Kingfisher," I said, "You're lucky I don't kick your ass."
"Oooh," he said, "That's a good threat. You're like what? Sixty pounds?"
"Closer to a hundred than that," I said.
His brows went up as he pushed his hair out of his face. "Huh," he said, "So you don't actually hit a hundred and ten, do you?"
I wondered if I did now that I was a lycanthrope, but let the thought go. It'd been forever since I stepped on a scale, as I'm a firm believer that no woman should own one, but I was still humanly the same size. "I don't know," I said. "Didn't used to."
He shook his head. "Damn, I knew you were small, but damn. I could pick you up and throw you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Don't even try it, Kingfisher."
He put his hands up in the air. "I won't."
Lenorre had gotten out of the car and walked around the front of it when we were talking.
"She is quite light," she said.
Arthur gave me an intense and serious look. "How do the bad guys not flick you like a booger?"
"Because," I said, "First, I don't let them get close enough. Second, I have a gun that is bigger than the rest of me."
I'm also a werewolf. That helps. Yep. Okay, so size really doesn't matter. I'd seen a woman smaller than me take down a guy at least three times Arthur's size. It was all about the training and knowing how to turn your opponent's size and weight against them, but the super-beastie part seriously came in fucking handy.
Arthur looked behind him as Ackerman got out of the passenger side of his Crown Victoria.
"Detective Kingfisher," she said, "We'll meet you inside."
Arthur's expression went from amused to questioning in a split second.
I shrugged and said to him, "I think she just wants to have another girl talk."
"Right, I'll be glad I missed that," he said. To Ackerman, he said, "Fine, but hurry your asses up."
"You don't want to go in there alone, do you?" I asked.
"Hell no," he said, "I don't want to go in there again." He shook his head, but he turned and followed the winding concrete pathway that led up to the door.
I turned to Ackerman. "What do you want?"
"I don't want the cops to know," she said.
"Fine," I said.
"I'm serious," she said.
"I said fine. I won't tell the cops, Ackerman."
"I could lose my badge."
"I know."
She gave me an unfriendly and distrusting look. "Just like that? You won't tell them? You hunt down and kill shape-shifters, yet you're willing to keep my secret, why?"
"Because it's your secret, Ackerman, and you obviously don't understand the job description of a Paranormal Huntress."
"You're a killer," she said, taking a step toward me. This time the wave of heat from her body was intentional and it caught me off guard. I was suddenly drowning in scents, musk, fur, and mesquite. I could smell her perfume, but it was so light, so subtle, it didn't mask the scent of her, not really.
Ackerman's gaze had bled caramel-gold. A resounding warmth, but something hotter, rose up like bile in the pit of my stomach.
Crap.
I squished it as fast as I could, like kicking dirt over a fire, trying to put the flame out. I didn't wrap my shields around me; I focused on holding them down like someone trying to close a stubborn window.
; She took another step toward me and I gave my ground, stepping back.
"You," Ackerman murmured. Her lips parted sensually, and her tongue flicked out across them, wetting them.
Ackerman might not have seemed like much, but I realized in that moment that I had sorely, very sorely, underestimated her abilities. Had she not recognized me in the guest room only because of Lenorre's distraction?
I sensed Lenorre still standing by the car but didn't risk glancing at her.
The shocked expression Ackerman wore made my pulse leap into my throat.
I felt the wolf inside me like something steady and solid, unafraid of the woman in front of me. She had no qualms over revealing herself or being what she was.
I did.
Ackerman reached out like she was going to touch me. This time I backed up again before I realized she wasn't actually trying to touch me. She didn't have to.
Her hand hovered in the air between us and I could feel her warm energy playing against my skin like she really was touching it. For a moment, the wolf looked up, ready to run and meet that energy face-to-face, to take it head on because it was invading her space. I envisioned a curtain between Ackerman and me, a thick velvet curtain that confused not only my wolf, but Ackerman's energy trying to search through mine.
"You're different," she said, but the look on her face didn't match the tone in her voice. Her brows furrowed in fierce concentration. I realized, because she'd only had a quick taste of my energy, a flicker of response, that she hadn't gotten a taste of my wolf. In order for her to fully recognize me, she'd probably have to touch me, but touch could ruin both our controls, and I wasn't sure Ackerman was willing to take that risk, especially if she wasn't certain I was a shape-shifter.
"What are you?" she whispered, hand sliding down, closer to my heart chakra. My pulse sped. For some reason, I didn't want her playing her energy there. I stepped back, several steps, still focusing on a thick curtain between us.
"I'm different," I said, "We'll leave it at that." But my voice was breathy, distracted by that warm play of energy.
She moved her hand as if she were going to touch me again, and I made a mistake. I stupidly, out of instinct, caught her wrist to stop her.
The reaction was instantaneous. Heat. So much heat. As if my hand was going to burn her. As if we were both flames, and when the flames touched they burned hotter.
Ackerman leaned her upper body toward me, and this time I was too slow.
The curtain rippled as if the wolf was going to dive through it.
I heard Ackerman take in a harsh breath, trying to catch my scent.
Fuck.
Ackerman said, "That's how you took down a werewolf that was more than twice your size."
The look she gave me was a little too sly, mirroring her animal counterpart.
"The rumors aren't true," she said, shaking her head. "I knew they weren't when I confronted you earlier today, but…"
I was drawing deep, careful breaths, trying to stifle and soothe the curious wolf within. "What rumors?"
Her fox-like gaze shifted to Lenorre. "That she had turned you."
"What?"
Ackerman seemed to relax now that I was the one tense and struggling. "A few of the cops think that you've been turned."
She smiled when she said that last bit.
I frowned.
"If the cops have seen me in broad daylight why would they think that?"
She shrugged very slowly. "They think you're a Lightwalker."
"A Lightwalker?"
"That is purely fictitious," Lenorre said smoothly. She came to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. Her energy, for some reason, calmed the wolf, and she stopped impatiently and curiously skimming the curtain I'd envisioned. A part of me knew what she wanted. She didn't want to get out and raise hell. Ackerman had disturbed her and she wanted to investigate the source of the disturbance. I didn't know how the wolf would react to a fox, and I was unwilling to find out.
"A Lightwalker?" I asked again. "I'm guessing that's supposed to be some kind of vampire?"
"There are humans who believe we can walk willingly into sunlight."
"Without being toasted?"
"Something like that, but it is purely fictitious."
"Is it?" Ackerman asked Lenorre.
"Yes."
"I almost believed them." Ackerman turned to me. "God knows, you're pale enough and you move differently than the rest."
I'd have to watch myself from now on. I didn't know I moved that differently.
I heard a door open, before Arthur's voice carried, "Kass?"
I turned and held up a hand.
Ackerman said. "You keep my secret. I'll keep yours."
"Done," I said and went to turn to the house.
Ackerman caught my arm. Lenorre took a step closer, but Ackerman kept her gaze on me. "I want to talk more about this," she said. "You may not be a vampire," she whispered, "but you're not like I am, either."
I sensed the wolf prick her ears, mirroring my agitation.
"Ackerman," I said, "Don't touch me."
She pulled her hand away.
"We will talk."
"Maybe," I said.
CHAPTER eight
ne thing is for sure, even if you've seen crime photos, the scene itself still manages to catch one off guard. The pictures are never as horrible as having the real thing right in front of your face. There are some things you can't prepare for. You can only look and hope you don't run screaming.
Lenorre stood close to my side as Arthur led us through the house and around the huddling group of blue uniforms and the forensic team in their black jackets with bright white letters reading "Forensics" on the back. It wasn't a large house by any means, and having so many people, whether they were working or not, made it seem even smaller.
The one thing that was very different about this crime scene was that it smelled blatantly of blood, tangy and metallic. The smell of it hit me in the face like a ton of bricks, threatening to rouse the wolf. I drew my shields tightly around me, using those careful walls I'd spent years working on building to keep her contained.
Arthur led the way cautiously around the streak of blood in the hallway. He didn't bother pointing it out because it was unnecessary. Even if I hadn't seen the pictures, there was no missing the dark stain on the light carpet. We walked past a bathroom, a bedroom, another bedroom, and into the room at the end of the hall.
I looked up at the bloody symbol above the bed and a tremble went through me, making my hand twitch. For several minutes, all of us just stood there.
Arthur finally spoke. "Your turn," he said. "I've already seen this mess."
I sighed and moved closer to the bed. The dark blue and gold celestial blankets were black and brown with blood. There wasn't a lot of furniture in the room-two small nightstands, probably his and hers, a dresser with a large vanity mirror, a potted ivy plant hung over one of the windows with its goldenrod curtains. I had a very strong sense the plant was Miranda's doing.
"Gloves," I said, holding my hand out behind me.
Arthur went to the door and called out, "I need some gloves, people!"
It took about a minute for someone to appear with a box of gloves and a sack used for trash. One of the forensics guys with an ID badge that read Reeves appeared in the doorway. Arthur passed the box around. Even if forensics had found what evidence they could find, it'd be a bitch if we messed up the crime scene in the process of finding a potential clue. Every clue we could find or salvage from the scene counted.
I drew my sleeves up using my teeth and went to the bed, drawing in a deep, steeling breath before leaning over to search the comforter.
That's when another smell hit me. Something wasn't right.
"Arthur?"
"Yeah, Kass?" he asked from his post near the doorway. Reeves was quietly standing beside him. He was the only other man in the room besides Arthur who hadn't put on a pair of gloves. Which meant neither of the boys intend
ed to get close to the evidence again.
"Your guys are testing the blood?" I asked Reeves.
He shook his head. "They had a runner take it back to the lab, but we haven't gotten the results."
"Lenorre?"
She moved up closer to me like some graceful shadow. "Yes?"
"Can you tell by smell if the blood is human or not?"
"Yes."
I touched the corner of the comforter where the blood hadn't managed to soak through.
"Wait," Reeves said. "Hang on a second…" I waited. He returned with a small vial of swabs. Gently, he plucked one of the ends from the vial with his bare fingers and went to the wall. His brow furrowed in concentration as he retrieved a spray bottle from his pocket and sprayed the tip of the swab. He placed the swab against a line of blood that had dried seeping from the symbol, gave the stick an artful spin, and handed it to Lenorre.
"I doubt this will hold up in court," Reeves said, "but I'm curious to see if you're right when we get the results in."
She took it, waving it under her nose. Her pale nostrils flared slightly, and her dark eyelashes fluttered closed. "It is not human," she said, voice dripping with the damp coldness of sea fog.
"Can you tell what it is?" I asked.
She sniffed it again. "Unfortunately, no," she said.
"If it's not human, could it be animal?" I asked.
"It'd have to be a freaking horse for this much blood," Arthur said.
"You would be surprised, Detective," Lenorre said, pinning him with her silvery gaze. "I cannot determine what or who the blood belongs to by smell alone."
"What if you tasted it?" Arthur asked.
"Arthur!"
"What?" He shot me a confused look. "It's just a question."
"Possibly," Lenorre said, "However, I would rather not."
"Why not? It's just blood and you're a vampire."
"Arthur, your etiquette sucks worse than mine and that's saying something," I said.
"What's so rude about me asking her to taste the blood?"
Lenorre was growing more still by the minute.
I intercepted before she could give him an answer. "She's a Countess, Arthur."
[Kassandra Lyall Preternatural Investigator 03] - Bloody Claws Page 5
