Bare Bones

by Debra Dunbar

  Skinned bodies are turning up in broom closets and garages, but when these bodies are identified, the ‘victims’ are found to be very much alive. Was there a mistake at the morgue? Is the murderer a serial killer with a gruesome fixation on taxidermy?

  Human killers aren’t the responsibility of the Templars, even non-knight ones, but when a vampire is found dead and skinned north of the city, Aria suspects the killers aren’t human. She’ll need all of her friends – both alive and dead – to help catch these killers before they strike again.

  Bare Bones

  By

  Debra Dunbar

  Table of Contents

  Book Description

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  About the Author

  Other Books By Debra Dunbar

  Copyright 2016, All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Formatting by Anessa Books.

  Chapter 1

  SO IT’S A love charm?” Janice tilted the amulet, regarding it with a skeptical eye. The reporter was sprawled on my couch, her long legs propped up on my coffee table. She was wearing her usual trim slacks and well-tailored, button-down shirt, but the new copper highlights in her hair and mascara on her lashes heralded the significance of today’s activities.

  We were going to find Janice a boyfriend.

  Not that I was anybody’s idea of a matchmaker. Nor was I a posterchild for success in love. My last significant relationship had been over two years ago. Right now I was alternating between lusting over a vampire that I couldn’t have and sending mixed signals to one of my gaming friends.

  I should be full steam ahead with Zac, really I should, but it was hard to be enthusiastic about someone when I was meeting that other, completely unsuitable, person every night for a few hours of food, wine, and occasional discussions of matters that concerned the supernatural community in Baltimore. But today wasn’t about my love life or lack thereof, it was about Janice, who had been on a steep downward slope ever since her divorce.

  Maybe today was also a little bit about me. I’d never get over grieving for Raven if I didn’t make the effort to crawl out of my hermit cave.

  “No, it’s not really a love charm. It’s an illusion charm.”

  I didn’t want to tell her that the charm would make her more appealing than usual. That sounded horribly insulting and Janice didn’t need any more blows to her ego. The idea behind the spell was that she would stand out from the crowd, draw the notice of any men within a twenty foot radius. The rest was up to her. She had four hours to convince the man of her choice that she was worth knowing the next day, worthy of a phone call. It was a four hour window of attraction.

  That was a lot of pressure on a woman, especially one who had been avoiding the dating game since the ink dried on the divorce papers three years ago. Which was why I was going with her. And why we were not going to a pub either.

  “I can’t believe I’m trolling for guys at the Walters Art Museum,” she grumbled.

  This again. “You need to go where there will be men who share your interests. You like historical items and art. It’s the perfect place.”

  She squinted at the amulet. “No one asks women out at the Walters Art Museum. Maybe we should go to a bar where the lighting is dim and guys have their beer goggles on.”

  Janice was no great beauty with her long face, sharp nose, and thin build, but she wasn’t homely by any definition of the word. The woman had amazingly long, shapely legs and pretty brown eyes. Guys didn’t find her unattractive, they just didn’t notice her. And they’d be less likely to notice her in a bar full of scantily clad barely-legal girls.

  I sighed. “Plenty of guys go to the Walters. They have swords and armor on display. There’s more than just the usual art gallery crowd there. Trust me. If it doesn’t work, I’ll craft another amulet and we’ll try somewhere else.”

  Janice clenched her jaw and draped the amulet over her head with a determined glare. “Let’s go.”

  I held up a finger. “One more thing.”

  She watched in interest as I pulled a bracelet out of a bag and handed it to her. It was a complicated design of interlocking silver rings, reminiscent of chain mail. It was the reason I had some seriously dark circles under my eyes today. The amulet would help her stand out in the crowd, but this bracelet was the magical item I was more proud of. It recharged through kinetic energy as she walked, kind of like some watches did. The amulet would draw men in, this bracelet would make sure those she attracted were kind and loyal—and that they stayed that way. The last thing Janice needed was some player or a guy who only wanted to drain her bank account and head to Bermuda. This bracelet should protect her from hurt.

  If it worked, that is. I wasn’t exactly a Grand Magus. There was only so much a self-taught Templar could do when it came to the magical arts.

  “Pretty.” Janice put it on and shook her wrist, admiring the silver links. It was pretty, glowing a faint shade of blue as it moved on her arm. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what do you know about demon possession?”

  I blinked at the abrupt segue, feeling a chill at the very topic of demon possession. “A lot actually, but it’s mostly academic. Priests deal with exorcism, not Templars.”

  We could do it, but given our inclination to forcibly banish demons at the point of a sword, priests were a better choice. The possessed human was less likely to die if a man of the cloth cast out the demon. Now, once it was cast out, all bets were off and we were happy to step in with a sword and take care of any demon foolish enough to hang around post exorcism.

  Janice picked up her purse, pulling out her phone. “I’ve had two people in the last few days claim that family members were possessed. I know it’s a full moon and all that, but it seemed like a trend. One woman is having an exorcism done on her brother tomorrow and I was thinking of taking her up on the invitation to watch and report on it.” She scrolled through her calendar. “It’s in Canton. You can go with me, or I can text you the address if you want to drive separately.”

  I hated to disappoint her but most demonic possessions were nothing more than a psychotic break or other type of mental illness. Now that epilepsy was recognized for the medical condition it was, reports of possession had gone down significantly. Plus most priests were well trained in guiding their flock toward mental health services when someone claimed demonic possession. This was probably just a feel-good visit by a priest prior to recommending a good psychiatrist.

  “You should go ahead and go,” I told her. “But it will probably end up being a human interest piece on the need for additional funding for the treatment of mental illness rat
her than any kind of supernatural phenomenon.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I was thinking, too. Either way it will be a good story. Come along with me.”

  “No thanks.” The idea of intruding on a woman and her mentally ill brother as they received spiritual counseling seemed wrong. I didn’t want to be that gawking stranger at their family crisis.

  “Seriously, I want you to come. You’re a Templar. I’d like your take on it, your expert opinion.”

  Ugh. Although it’s not like I had a ton to do lately other than my part-time coffee shop job, Wednesday night Anderon game, and the occasional dinner and a movie with Zac. “I’m not an expert on psychiatric issues. I’m going to feel like an idiot standing there watching a priest tell a woman her brother needs therapy and pharmacology.”

  Janice grinned. “Come just in case it’s a real demon. I’ve seen vampires, a necromancer, corpses that have been killed by an angel and demons. I’ve interviewed mages who have been involved in human sacrifice. This might be nothing more than a human interest piece, but just in case it really is a demonic possession, I want you by my side.”

  It made me feel good that I was the one she wanted by her side. Me. Things might have been a little boring the last four weeks, but after seven months in Baltimore I finally had friends, a hobby of sorts, and a guy that I might think about calling my boyfriend. Someday. Maybe.

  Or not. Yeah, those mixed signals.

  I put an arm around Janice’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “Okay. I’m in. Now let’s get going before the Crab Rangoon and decent wine are gone and all we’re stuck with is tortillas and tap water.

  We parked a few blocks out from the museum. I breathed deeply once inside the building, feeling the pull of history surround me. The Walters Art Museum was like a sanctuary to me. Whenever I felt stressed or lonely, I’d come here and browse the exhibits, admiring the paintings, the sculpture, and of course the arms and armor. Helms, hilts, daggers, shields and spears. I’d press my hand against the glass, trying to be as close as possible to such treasures. I envisioned my ancestors with such swords and armor as these, dressing for battle against an evil foe, confident that God would guide their hand and make their aim true.

  I had no such faith. I constantly doubted whether my sword swung on the side of righteous justice or not. It was so difficult to judge when there were no definitive lines between good and evil. No wonder Templars had refused to judge at all for the last eight hundred years.

  Except for me that is. I’d made that judgement last month and taken a life. It still hovered over me like a cloud. He’d been a murderer, a skilled magician that no prison would have been able to hold, but I still wished there had been an alternative to sticking my sword through him.

  There wasn’t. It was done, and it was my burden to bear. I’d face judgement on that when I died, but until then I tried to put it behind me. I wasn’t going to dwell on that today. No, today Janice and I were heading to a special exhibit of twelfth century illuminated manuscripts where Janice would scope out the eligible men while I pressed my nose against the glass and admired the calligraphy and artwork. There was an unveiling of some additional pieces to the exhibit, and in keeping with the posh tone of the museum, a special sponsor’s reception. The Ainsworth family were significant donors, although we’d always declined the invitations for these events given our distance from Baltimore.

  I lived here. I was an Ainsworth. I might as well go and enjoy some food and drink, rub elbows with the sort of people who donated large sums of money to museums, and set my friend up with one of them.

  And Janice was indeed attracting attention. It wasn’t the crazy, celebrity rock-star kind of attention, but men were definitely noticing her. They struck up conversations with her at the drink table, and edged up to speak to her as she admired the manuscripts. Before long I noticed her in conversation with a man so tall he nearly dwarfed her. He bent his blond head to listen to something she was saying, extending a glass of wine to her with a long-fingered hand.

  “So, what do you think?”

  I smiled, leaning back against the man behind me. “I think she’s gonna get laid.”

  Zac snorted. “Someone should.”

  It was a gentle dig at our lack of mattress-action. Not that I blamed him. A guy was bound to get frustrated going out with a woman for over a month, making out a few times only to be pushed away with excuses about work and exhaustion.

  I had good reasons to hold back on this relationship. I’d been numb after Raven’s death and the events of last month. I saw Zac at the Anderon game and usually was talked into a once-a-week date. He’d gotten the clue after the first week and backed off, taking the slow and easy approach—one that I knew wasn’t what he’d hoped for.

  Zac was cute with his floppy, over-long brown hair and glasses. Really cute. Sex with him would be fun. It was the afterward that worried me. Crossing that bridge meant we couldn’t easily return to the friend-zone, and I liked Zac—liked him as a friend. I felt as though I’d be using him by having sex with him. And that just seemed wrong.

  Although both Sean and Petie at the coffee shop assured me that men were perfectly happy to be used if it meant they got to get horizontal with an attractive woman. In spite of their assurances, I still felt like I’d be a total jerk sleeping with Zac and keeping our relationship on the back burner.

  He smiled and I wavered in my resolve. “I meant what do you think about the manuscripts? You went on and on about them Friday. I expected to hear a twenty minute lecture on their…something or another.”

  Sheesh, poor guy. I probably owed him sex after boring him to death Friday night. Yes, I probably did owe him sex. Or at least second base.

  I took a step closer to Zac, giving him my sexiest smile. “In a day of e-mail and text messages, such calligraphy is truly a work of art. And I really like the leopard. Yeah. I think I like the drawing of the leopard best.”

  Zac took the glass of wine from my hand and placed it on a nearby table. “Me, I’m partial to the dude playing the harp. It really adds to my comprehension of the Latin, or whatever that is.”

  I turned my attention back to the manuscript, placing a finger on the glass. “It’s Latin. Don’t ask me to read it though. I’m barely proficient. I ran away from the tutor every day and hid behind the tapestries in the dragon room. And I cheated, copying Athena’s old tests and essays.”

  I felt an arm around my waist, the press of a masculine body against my back, a warm breath against my hair. “You had a dragon room?”

  “When you’ve got a house with nine bedrooms you’ve got to have some way of differentiating them. Mom and Dad’s. Athena’s. Roman’s. Mine. The five others were named by their decorating theme. The dragon room has tapestries with a dramatic graphic rendering of St. George and the dragon.”

  “Sounds Gothic. And sexy.” His breath stirred my hair.

  Okay, this was getting rather intimate for a posh museum gala. “Gothic, yes. Sexy, no.”

  The image of me on the bed, Dario’s weight on top of me, his eyes black with blood lust flashed into my mind, and suddenly I felt breathless. Blood lust scared the heck out of me, but Dario on top of me… Mmm.

  But Dario was a vampire, and sex with him would involve a donation of blood, along with an addiction and obsession that would lead to my early death.

  Zac pressed against me, oblivious to my thoughts. “I hear they have a spiral staircase here, made of stone like in the castles of Europe.”

  They did. I loved the stone steps. The turn of the staircase was so narrow it was difficult to walk down.

  Zac’s arm tightened around me. “We can be alone there. Just you and I.”

  That was a cold splash of water on my libido. Oh, Lord. He wanted to make out on the museum staircase. “Are you kidding me? There are no doors and it’s a major attraction. We wouldn’t be alone for long.”

  “Spoilsport. Come on. Live a little.”

  I looked over at Janice
, happily in conversation with the tall, lanky blond man. Zac was right. I was a spoilsport, and I’d strung him along for a month. I needed to live a little, have some fun, take some risks, especially after everything that had happened in the last month. Although it wasn’t exactly mature for a twenty-six-year-old woman, a Templar, a representative of the Ainsworth family who had donated to this museum, to be making out with a guy on the spiral staircase.

  It wasn’t exactly mature, but I needed to be immature just for a moment. I’d mended fences with my best friend only to have her die horribly. I sat across from a vampire I longed for every evening, knowing he was leaving our “business” meeting and going to spend the rest of his night with his blood slave, Giselle.

  Giselle. Even her name was beautiful. Her parents hadn’t saddled her with something like Solaria Angelique Ainsworth.

  I leaned back against Zac. “Okay. But not the staircase. I know somewhere a bit more private.”

  Zac seemed onboard with that idea. Certain portions of his body seemed very onboard with that idea. I felt giddy, like a naughty schoolgirl sneaking off between classes with a hot boy. Shooting one last glance at Janice, I took Zac’s hand and twirled out of his embrace. “Come on, babe. All these manuscripts have got me hot and bothered.”

  Yeah, that was about the extent of my skills in sexy-talk. I’m not sure Zac even heard me. He followed behind as I led, holding my hand in a tight grip. We edged our way out of the reception, through an empty room with Egyptian pottery, then past cabinets with filigree jewelry.

  “Here.”

  “Here” was a broom closet at the back of the museum. I giggled as Zac spun me around, pushing me against the door and kissing me. The heat soaring through me had just as much to do with the fact that someone could walk in on us at any moment as the skillful way his mouth moved on mine. I gasped, breathless as Zac’s lips traced their way across my jaw and down my neck.

  “Come on. Let’s get into the closet.” Not something I thought I’d ever be saying to a guy. Then again, I never thought I’d be getting frisky in a museum broom closet with Zac either. He was fun. He was nice, and cute. He made me laugh. And this whole thing was like champagne in my veins, taking my mind off everything that had happened in the last thirty days.