The bag couldn’t hold more than a few shirts and an extra pair of pants. “Where’s the rest?”
She received a shrug in answer. The silence frustrated her, reminded her of the prison. Stay quiet, don’t bring attention to yourself and draw their focus.
The memories left her stomach with knots the size of boulders. “I need coffee.” She needed space. Turning away, she headed toward the kitchen. “Just find a room and throw your stuff in there.”
Thankfully, they didn’t follow her, and she had the kitchen to herself for the moment. She didn’t know where the others were and was grateful for the time alone. Dumping those two and moving on was becoming a lot more complicated than she had anticipated.
She grabbed three donuts, hungry for the calories, and devoured them in less than a minute. Shifters needed nearly double the calories in a day to be able to keep dominance over their animal form. If she didn’t eat, her body looked elsewhere for the energy, ready to cannibalize whatever or whoever was near. She grabbed a fourth when the door whooshed open.
London walked into the room, dropped the morning paper on the table, and prowled around without a sound. She would’ve said he lumbered like his animal counterpart, but he was more graceful than any bear she’d ever seen. Everything about him was blunt, from his short, cropped black hair to his attitude to the scent of leaves that always seemed to cling to him. There was an underlying violence in him waiting to erupt. She suspected he was a hybrid, but had never asked. Crossbreeds were a sore subject with him.
London and her had an unsteady truce. She kept her distance, and he pretended she didn’t exist. Communication between them was kept to any mention of security for the team. The arrangement worked.
She poured her first cup of coffee, took a sip when he spoke. “They’ll cause problems.”
And promptly burnt her tongue. When she found his dark eyes pinned to hers, she bit back the curse that rose to her lips. “I know.”
He sighed and shook his head. “I’ll beef up security.” He slapped an inch thick piece of ham between two slices of bread and was gone.
“Making friends with the big boy?” Trish sauntered in the room, her robe barley covering the small negligee she sported, her waist-length, long black hair swishing at her back like a tail. She poured herself a cup of coffee and rested her hip causally against the counter. Stiffness lined the other woman’s movements, revealing how uncomfortable she was being alone with Raven.
Mockery darkened Trish’s eyes, animosity pouring off the sleek little panther, but Raven refrained from saying anything. No fighting. Rule one of the house. Though Trish couldn’t have known the outcome, Raven suspected the woman had set up last night’s debacle. She just couldn’t figure out why. As far as she knew, she’d never insulted the panther.
She was saved from actually asking the question when the boy and his protector entered.
“And who do we have here?” The honey purr of Trish’s voice froze the kid mid-step. Only his eyes moved as he located the source of the threat.
His heartbeat pounded at the base of his neck, his anxiety climbed. And in all that, he didn’t so much as twitch. Raven glanced between the boy and Trish, wondering if they knew each other, feeling oddly jealous and very protective of him.
“They’re off limits.”
An unbecoming flush filled Trish’s face, and she laughed nastily. “Of course they are. Your wish is our command.” With those bitter words, she disappeared out the door, but not without brushing close enough to the boy that their clothes touched. His nostrils flared at the ripe scent of Trish’s desire and the flood of cloying perfume she left in her wake.
Instead of pleasure, the boy shuddered, his shoulders hunched, almost curling into himself.
“Keep the cat away from him.” Jackson issued the order, violence dancing in his eyes. For some odd reason, she had the impression he held himself back from attacking Trish for Raven’s benefit.
Raven nodded carefully, promising herself to talk to Jackson later and find out if there was going to be a problem. She could ask the woman to leave, they were only to stay for the rest of the week, but those five days would be an insult. One Trish would make her pay for in small ways for a long time.
The door whooshed open. Dina bounded in, bright and chipper as always. Cherry blossoms filled the room. “Good morning, everyone. I heard that we have company.” The fox darted around the room, a ball of energy, her mouse brown hair tangled up in a sloppy knot at the back of her head, bobbing with her movements. She had an apron on and pans out in seconds. Within the minute, breakfast was under way.
Raven straightened and hurried toward the door.
“Don’t even think about going anywhere. You have to eat first.” Even though her back was turned, Dina was always aware of everyone in the room.
Raven grimaced, plunked down her coffee and sat at the table. “You might as well sit. She won’t let you leave without tasting everything.” Too bad Dina couldn’t cook and no one had the heart to tell her otherwise. Usually, everyone snuck in before she rose or after she cleaned the dishes to see if she’d left anything untouched.
When in residence, most stashed food around the house. Raven sometimes found it days after they’d departed.
The boy slipped into a seat across from her and relaxed a little. His eyes monitored her every move, which left her unnerved and more than a bit paranoid. “What are you doing?”
“Watching you.” The simple answer made her uncomfortable. Attention of any kind always had her hackles rising. She’d learned the hard way that observation meant danger.
She turned to Jackson. “What is he doing?”
The muscles of his shoulders bunched then loosened as he shrugged. “He’s assimilating himself into your house. He’s trying to gauge what you like and don’t like.”
“What?” Raven was taken aback and completely baffled.
Dina laughed, her face shinning with amusement. “What’s your name?”
“Taggert.” He answered Dina without removing his gaze from Raven.
“Raven here doesn’t understand people’s motives unless they deal with death, so you’re just going to confuse the hell out of her. My advice is to be yourself, and let her get used to you.”
Thank God the phone rang. “I’ll get it.” Raven bolted to her feet. She rushed to the other side of the room, feeling their attention following her every step like a scratch between her shoulder blades.
“Raven.”
“We have a new case.” Cool, reserved, Scotts gave nothing away. He was a member of the police force that used her as a resource on unusual crimes. He’s also one of the few people who knew about the labs, and how the scientists dissected vampires and shifters in order to create enhanced soldiers to protect the humans against the monsters.
Scotts kept a special eye on the paranormal community and listened to rumors on the street. More than once, he’d directed clients to her that didn’t fit inside the bounds of human law.
“Specifics?” Her heart thudded in her chest, and her appetite vanished. He only called her if it was something bad.
“A body. What we could find of one, anyway.”
“Give me the address.” She didn’t bother to write it down; she knew the park area he mentioned.
“I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Bring waders.” He hung up when she would’ve asked for more information.
The phone touched the cradle without a sound. The line of windows exposed the dawn as it crested over the trees and crept across the lawn. All she saw were mass graves dug for the paranormals the labs had destroyed before a rescue could be arranged.
She pocketed the keys to her car that London had so thoughtfully retrieved from the club. Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward the door, her mind already gearing itself for the outside world. She began the process of wrapping her shields around herself in preparation to face the public and the dead.
Only to find her way blocked by a pair o
f shoes.
She followed the line of legs, up past a lean, muscular packed body, and found the kid staring at her. Taggert.
“If there’s danger, you shouldn’t go alone.”
A trickle of humor curled through her. He was...sweet. “I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.” She waited expectantly for him to move. Instead, he gave her what she was beginning to understand as his patent blank smile.
Jackson snorted, whether at Taggert’s actions or at her words, she couldn’t tell. “I think he’s worried about you.”
She didn’t spare him a glance. Any humor dissipated. She needed to get to the site. The dead were waiting for justice.
Chapter Five
EARLY AFTERNOON
“Stay in the car.” Raven slammed the door in their faces. Jackson was furious, waves of his anger beating at her despite her shields. Taggert lounged in the back seat, content that he’d gotten his way to come along.
Jackson, she understood. Rules. Laws. Duty. Taggert left her floundering. Maybe if she understood more about pack business, she could figure him out. Something about his total peace with the situation left her at a loss on how to deal with him.
“I’m glad you came.”
She ducked under the tapeline and shook Scotts’ hand. His jacket was gone, his pants soaked from the crotch down, and his arms dripped water with his every movement. Though detective grade, Scotts trained under a man who insisted on being in the thick of things. Scotts subscribed to the same attitude.
“What did you find?” She snapped on the gloves he provided, walking toward the overgrown, man-made pond. The ground was soggy after days of continuous rain, the pond no better than muddy soup.
“A lot of muck and bones. Divers are still fishing out pieces of the body.”
“The recent storms must have dragged the corpse to the surface.” A lump filled her throat at the smell of rotten blood and stagnant water. She ignored the bones resting on the tarp like puzzle pieces and stared over the water at the two grim divers struggling to carry a water-logged torso to the edge. Even at the distance, she could tell the corpse had been gutted. “You don’t think a human could’ve done this?”
“Not the way the bones were taken apart, rented in places and chewed in others. The ME examined the remains. There aren’t any traces of knife or weapons marks.” Dark, hooded eyes met hers, silently warning her to be prepared. “But he could identify teeth marks.”
“Who’s the ME?”
“Ross.”
She gave a jerky nod. The man knew his business. “Show me.” At thirty-four, Scotts kept in good shape and covered the ground quickly, his sweat and tobacco scent trailing behind him. The other officers either avoided her completely, grimness etching lines on their faces, or watched her with suspicion as if they expected her to sprout fangs and fur just because she hung out with the paranormals.
Ignoring them, she followed Scotts to the map of bones and mysterious body parts that were spread out near where the cadaverously skinny ME stooped over his work.
“Hey, Ross.”
“Hello, pretty lady.”
Raven gave him a distracted smile, and the sharp chemical smell she associated with him filled her nostrils. She pulled away to study what he’d set out already.
Stark white bones and raw flesh leeched of blood riveted her. Her mind stumbled, then pushed past the horror to methodically categorize what she saw. The torso lay exposed on the ground, oddly vulnerable and relatively unharmed. That was if you discounted the decomposition that made the skin resemble waxy, misshapen bread dough left too long in the heat.
One arm appeared torn from its socket. It was hard to tell from the tissue damage, but she saw no obvious blade marks. The head had been removed before the body entered the pond, and she could only be grateful not to take that image home with her. With one last glance, she switched her attention to the bones Ross labored over.
“There are two bodies, one old and one new. Both are shifters.” Which was odd in itself. She would’ve said a shifter fight, but shifters didn’t leave one of their own behind.
She crouched, examining the smaller, exposed femur in closer detail. Grooves were gouged into one of the bones. “The tool marks are some sort of animal bites, but I would say there are two of them.”
“How do you know?”
“The size.” She pointed to the shattered femur bone with muscle tissue still dangling from it by strings that were once tendons. Decay had the bones dripping with slime, the smell putrid. “See here? The bridge of this bite is wider.”
Scotts scribbled in his notebook. “So we’re looking for a pair.”
Raven slowly shook her head, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise. “I don’t think so.”
Alerted to her tone, Scotts lowered his book and hunkered down next to her. “Why do you say that? You just said there were two different set of marks.”
One was a shifter, but there was something off about the width marks on the second set of the teeth that didn’t quite match any wild animal.
“One is human, the other is animal.”
Raven jerked when Jackson spoke. “What the hell are you doing? I told you to stay in the car.” Raven leapt to her feet, putting herself between him and the evidence to prevent any contamination. Nor did he need to see the macabre scene.
She had to help the police like a compulsion. Needed to do some good in the world and catch the bad guys to make up for all the lives she hadn’t been able to save when the labs collapsed and the compound was destroyed. No way was he going to ruin this for her.
“I told them I was your assistant, and they let me pass.” Jackson tucked his hands under his arms.
“Raven, do you know this man?” Scotts gripped the handle of his service revolver.
Muscles of her jaw bunched. She thought about refusing to answer, but that would only cause her more trouble in the end. She pried her lips apart and spit out one word. “Yes.”
Scotts didn’t stand down and Jackson refused to budge. They were about the same height. Scotts was thicker in the torso, but Jackson had more bulk on him overall.
“I think it’s best we left.” Raven paused, waiting for Jackson to leave, but the bastard wore a stubborn look that said he wouldn’t budge without her. Her fingers clenched, eager to get her hands on him. Raven nodded to Scotts. “I’ll do some digging and call you when I learn more.” She’d return tonight when everyone was gone and visit the morgue to catch up on what she missed. The privacy would allow her to get a closer look without others watching. She’d be able to see what her gift could pick up.
Those bodies were put in the pond, but she didn’t think they were there to conceal a murder. They were placed there very deliberately, and she would find out why.
She stalked back toward the car, Jackson’s silent tread following, her anger mounting with each step. She slammed the car door, revved the engine and took off as Jackson shut his door. Taggert remained a silent presence in the back of the car.
As she turned onto the main road, Jackson retrieved his phone from his pocket and an ugly suspicion crept into her mind.
“Who do you think you’re calling?” She didn’t bother to look away from the road.
“There are people on the squad who will help bury this case.”
Affronted by his lack of belief that she could do her job, she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “You can’t do that. Someone is murdering people. If you sweep everything away, he’ll continue his rampage.” Even with what little she knew of him, she couldn’t believe he would help a killer.
When he continued to dial, Raven coaxed a strand of current to rise to the surface. The voltage flared in response to her anger, lashing at his phone. The plastic gave a warning beep and a trail of smoke rose from the keypad.
“What the hell!” He tried to turn the phone back on but without success, then glared at her as if he somehow suspected her involvement.
“This is my case.” She f
lexed her hands on the steering wheel, taking the turn a little too fast. Tires spun in protest, but no one said a word.
“If the truth of this gets out, the humans will panic again.” The hard mask he always wore sharpened with his conviction. He ran a distracted hand through his hair. She didn’t think he directed his comment at her. It was more talking out loud, but it hit her anyway.
Memories of the horror of the paranormal conflict ten years ago filled the car with tension. People hunting the paranormal community. The police unable to control either paranormals or the humans. The skirmishes and slaughter of innocents on both sides. It only stopped when the government issued a new law that made paranormals legal citizens, their deaths punishable by law.
At least that was what we were led to believe.
“Scotts knows what he’s doing.”
“That human?” The emotions on his face shut down, and he snorted.
Anger roared back to life. “Do you really think this is the first case we’ve come across?” She gave him a cynical look. “You’re a fool.”
“Must be nice coming from someone who doesn’t understand what it’s like to live inside the pack. Things are different. Rules have to be maintained. You’ve never had to watch people you know gunned down and murdered. Never knowing who’d be next.”
A bubble of laughter worked its way up her throat. “You pompous ass. Do you actually believe the wolves have it worse than anyone else?” She cast him a cynical glance, then focused on the road again. “Funny, but I saw bodies from both sides of the war. Wolves were very few and far between.”
The animosity in the air made breathing difficult. “The pack takes care of their own. We’ll find the killer. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s why you said an animal and human tore them apart when you know damn well a shifter was responsible.” Her shoulders slumped. That mentality only made it harder on the paranormal community. It raised suspicions and created a dangerous situation. Vigilante justice. If the public learned of it, a rift would form and all the races would suffer. The dunderhead didn’t understand or was too stubborn to care. “Scotts is a good man. He’s trained for these types of situations. He knows when he’s over his head.”
Electric Storm (A Raven Investigations Novel) Page 4
