by Lexi Blake
“Don’t worry about the flowers. I already got the cash, buddy. Your boss was generous with the tip.” I gave the shocked servant a saucy little wink.
“My master has brought a prostitute back to his home? This is the home where he is supposed to one day bring my mistress. How dare he?” The little man drew himself to his full height, and as he turned I caught the slightest glimpse of red eyes before they flashed back to dull brown. “I shall speak to Master Grayson immediately. You should prepare to leave. Your services will no longer be needed.”
“You’re a demon.” Now that I really looked at him, I could see the faintest outline of haze around his body, like the lines were softer where his flesh met his clothes. “Are you wearing a glamour?”
He turned back to me, his eyes flaring and a little look of wonder coming onto his face. “You’re the Hunter.”
I think I was happier when he thought I was a hooker. Hookers make people happy. “I’m not a hunter. I don’t do that.”
The older man’s smile was sly. “That isn’t what I meant, miss. Hunter is what you are not what you do. I apologize sincerely for mistaking you for less. I am Syl. It is my honor to welcome you into my master’s home. If you do not mind, I will dispense with the glamour. I prefer my own skin, though if it offends you I will, of course, suffer through.”
His face was sour, as though he expected me to choose whichever option caused him the most discomfort. I shrugged and opened the bottle of water. I was glad we weren’t going to talk about my father’s profession. “Do what you like. It won’t bother me.”
“And a kind mistress at that,” the demon purred and the old man was gone, replaced by a red-skinned demon with tiny horns. The dimensions of the demon didn’t change. He was still shorter than me and his clothes were exactly the same except for the shoes. Goat-like feet poked out from his trousers.
“See that’s freaky.” I took a long drink.
A single shoulder came up in a gesture that told me he’d heard it all before. “It is normal where I come from. Your pale skin seems a little…freaky to me.”
“I can live with that,” I said, slowly digesting the fact that my almost lover had a demonic housekeeper. “So you work for Gray?”
“I do, indeed.” He went about putting the kitchen to rights, gathering dishes and wiping down countertops. He poured a glass of orange juice and set it in front of me. “I have been Master Gray’s familiar since his birth. I was a gift from his father. Here, drink this. It’s freshly squeezed. It has to be better than bland water. Or would you prefer coffee? I can make anything you like.”
I took the drink because I wanted to get back to the topic at hand.
“His familiar? Like a witch’s familiar?” I asked, confused by the terminology. I ignored the fact that he’d been given a person…bipedal humanoid as a gift for his birthday. My father had been concerned with werewolves. I knew next to nothing about demons.
The orange juice was sweet, though it had the slightest hint of peppermint. Interesting. I took another drink, the juice cool on my tongue.
“In a sense.” Syl took off his suit coat and rolled up his sleeves with practiced grace, further exposing inches of red skin. “I could be the focal point for his talents if only he could be persuaded to use them. He prefers to pretend they do not exist, so they flash on him at the oddest times.”
I slid onto the barstool and watched the little demon toil. He seemed perfectly comfortable talking to me now that he had ascertained I wasn’t a working girl. He was efficient and quick, and within minutes I couldn’t tell that Gray had cooked breakfast at all. “Are you talking about his prophecy powers?”
His red eyes widened and a big grin came across his face, showing off his small, curved fangs. “He has already told you of his gifts? I thought he would play it more coyly. This is exciting. And you accept his parentage? Many would not.”
I didn’t like it. It was creepy to think that Gray had a father working his mojo on the Hell plane, but then I wasn’t exactly blessed in the fatherhood department. I couldn’t expect Gray to overlook a crappy dad on my side if I wasn’t willing to do the same for him. “We don’t get to pick our parents.”
“No, we do not,” Syl agreed. “I suspect my master would have selected a different sire had he been given the choice. He rarely speaks with his father. The master really only acknowledges the Hell Lord when he…forces the issue.”
“I probably don’t want to know how a Hell Lord forces the issue.” Jamie had said something about Gray being at war with his father.
Syl shook his head sharply. “No, miss, you do not. It would be easier on my master if he simply took the call in the first place. He is a stubborn boy. Perhaps he is coming around though. We all learn in the end.”
“What are you doing here, Syl?” Gray’s harsh question broke the quiet little repartee Syl and I had established. Gray walked in from the den and he’d changed into jeans and a black T-shirt. His eyes were on Syl, his whole face tense. “I told you to stay away today. I called you last night.”
The demon dropped his head and submissively bowed. “I apologize, my lord. I did not check my voice mail. I was merely attempting to clean the kitchen and to see if there was any way possible I could help the lovely female you brought home to mate with last night.”
I choked on my drink as the laughter bubbled up, but Gray didn’t see the comedy.
“You will keep your mouth shut about her, Syl,” Gray ordered, his face hard as granite as he bore down on the servant. “Now go. You can stay in the guesthouse or…wherever. I don’t care, but I don’t want you around her, do you understand? You tell the rest of them to stay away from her, too.”
The demon refused to look Gray in the eyes as he slid by and slunk toward the door leading to the patio. There was a pool in the backyard and a small structure that must be the guesthouse Gray was talking about.
Syl stopped at the door, though he didn’t turn around. “I apologize if I offended you with my presence, miss.”
“I wasn’t upset at all.” I felt sorry for the little guy. He slunk away quietly and I turned to Gray.
“Don’t, Kelsey,” Gray said immediately. “Don’t you let him in an inch. That’s what they do. He’s a demon, a full blood.”
“He seemed perfectly nice.” I finished off my juice. He made a mean fresh-squeezed juice, but Gray didn’t seem to want to hear praise for his staff.
“That’s how they trap you. Do you think they’d ever get anyone to sign a contract if they came at you with fangs bared? They come off as charming and quirky and then, when you think they couldn’t possibly be so bad, that’s when they get you.”
I was a little offended that he seemed to think I couldn’t handle one small demon. He’d been the one who couldn’t see through an illusion. I’d known right away there was something wrong with Syl. He hadn’t fooled me. “I’ll try not to let him get me, then. He wasn’t trying to get me to sign a contract, Gray. He was offended at the thought that you brought a hooker back to the place where you should only enjoy marital bliss.”
I was rewarded with Gray’s mouth hanging open in complete shock. He stared at me for a moment before giving in to the urge and laughing until the force of it shook his whole body.
“He thought you were a hooker?” Gray managed to wheeze. “Why the hell would he think you were a hooker? I’ve never been to a hooker in my life.”
“He did seem surprised.” I had to fess up. “I might have mentioned you were a great tipper.” Gray shook his head and I felt compelled to explain. “He told me you never spent more than one night with any female.”
“That’s bullshit, Kelsey,” Gray said, sitting on the barstool beside me. “I’ve had girlfriends before. They were never serious, but then I’m only thirty and I’ve been looking for you for the last several years, so I think I can be forgiven for not settling down.” He reached out and grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Syl…he’s a constant reminder of a life I’ve tried to
leave behind. I’ve tried to get rid of him on many occasions. When I fire him and refuse to let him work he causes trouble. Lots of trouble. It’s better that I let him do a little work and ignore him for the most part.”
“You said something about the rest of them?” I asked, remembering that he’d told Syl to tell the rest of them to stay away from me. I wondered if there was an army of neat-freak demons waiting to dust Gray’s bookshelves.
His thumb rubbed across my palm as though he deeply enjoyed the contact. “My father is insistent. He sends messengers and servants. They’re really spies. He tries to keep tabs on me. He’ll know about you. Syl tells him everything. I would have preferred to keep you off his radar.”
I laced my fingers with his. “Gray, I don’t think that’s going to be possible unless you plan on a short or very private relationship. Were you planning on keeping me hidden?”
“No, I’m not. I’ve already announced my intentions to your brother. I don’t intend to hide them. We’ll deal with my father.” He sighed and smiled. “Now, how about I turn your attention away from my truly awful family with something even more awful?”
“If you’re ready to explain the case to me, then I’m beyond ready to listen,” I said, steeling myself to get down to work.
Gray gracefully stepped down from the barstool and helped me down as well. “All right, but don’t forget I warned you. I would rather keep you out of this, but…damn it, I need your help. I’m at a loss. I’ve never dealt with anything like this.”
I let him lead me to a small room behind the kitchen just before the door to the garage. He opened it and I walked into his nightmare. The room was an elegant, masculine office with a big desk, computer, printer, all the things one would expect from a well-organized investigator. There was a large white board covered with notes and photos. My eyes went straight there, past the carefully written notations and the neatly drawn lines and right to the photos.
“Oh my god.” I took a deep breath and thanked the universe for my formidably strong stomach. I’d expected to see postmortem photographs, but this was something completely different. There’s something distant about the pictures crime scene investigators take, as though the person taking the photo can step back and make the scene emotionless, logical.
If that was true, then the person taking these photos wanted to show the true horror of death.
“These weren’t taken by the police.”
“No. He’s been sending them to me for a month.” Gray stood behind me and it was hard for me not to reach back for his hand.
The pictures were black and white and I was grateful for it. I don’t think I could have stood it if they were in color. Even without the color, I could almost feel the rage from the photos. Rage and useless, meaningless death.
I forced myself to stare at the first one. It took a moment to truly understand that what I was looking at used to be a female. The body was torn and cut, but it wasn’t an animal attack. This was a focused form of torture. I noticed that her hands were over her head, wrists shackled together.
“He uses silver,” I said, trying to banish the tears that threatened. I needed to be cold and professional. I didn’t need to think about the indignity these women had been put through. I didn’t need to feel the pain and torture someone had inflicted on them. I needed to see what was there. I needed to look at it without emotion.
“Yes,” Gray replied quietly. “He uses silver, either cuffs or chains or rope, to hold them down. His victims, so far, have been either wolves or shifters. He has to hold them down in some fashion. These aren’t women who would go down without a fight.”
“How many?” I moved to the next, forcing myself to see, really see each photograph.
“Five victims so far. I’ve only managed to ID the second one.” He pointed to a series of photos on the far right side of the office. “Her name is Laura Nesson. She’s a wolf from the Fort Worth pack. It’s smaller than Dallas, but not insubstantial. The only reason I managed to ID her is from an arrest record. She was arrested for DUI two years ago and has a juvenile rap sheet a mile long.”
I moved down the line, taking in what I could of the women’s faces. And then my heart fell. I’d seen the last face. She’d been smiling, her whole life ahead of her in the photo I’d seen. I was going to have to tell Helen Taylor that her precious daughter was gone. She would have to survive another unthinkable loss. Tears blurred the picture before me, but I forced myself to point. “I can ID that one. Her name is Joanne Taylor. She’s my missing person.”
Her pretty blonde hair was matted with blood and she was completely naked. She’d been made as vulnerable as a female could be, all of her intelligence and hard work, all of her love meaningless against one man’s hatred. Her torso had been sliced open with surgical precision and it was obvious she’d had organs removed.
I couldn’t help it. I sank down to the floor and I cried. All I could see when I looked at that wall was Joanne Taylor’s smiling face. She was young and ripe and ready for the world and the world had eaten her up. She was her mother’s darling and I was the one who had to tell her mother she was gone forever because she’d lost her fucking scholarship. Such a simple thing. Twenty thousand dollars shouldn’t be the price of a life, but I knew deep down many were cheaper even than Joanne’s.
Gray knelt beside me, his arms enveloping me. I was surrounded by his warmth and sank into the comfort of it. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered as he rocked me gently. “I wasn’t sure it was her, but I thought it might be. Is this your first murder case?”
I let him hold me. If he’d apologized for showing me this, I would have pushed him away. I would have stood up and been the professional I knew I should be, but Gray was smarter than that. He let me cry and he didn’t make me feel stupid for doing it. After a long while, I nodded as an answer to his question.
“It’s hard,” he said. I looked into his face and saw a wealth of compassion there. “Your first murder is always hard, especially when it didn’t start as a murder case. You thought you could find her and be the hero and put a family back together, and now you have to tell a mother that her baby is dead. It’s horrible. I won’t lie to you. I’ll come with you, love. I’ll help you talk to her, but I’m going to ask you to give me until tomorrow. This is the worst of the worst, honey. This is a serial case and it sucks, but you can help me. You figured out in twenty-four hours what it took me weeks to get. I took forever to piece together that the girls were working at that vampire club. I need you. I need you to look at all the evidence and tell me what I’m missing. I need you to go into Ether with me tonight and get people talking. They don’t want to talk to me, but I think they’ll talk to you.”
I nodded, unsure why he thought people would talk to me, but I was willing to try. I was willing to do anything to figure out who this asswipe was. I sniffled and let Gray help me up. He handed me a tissue as I forced myself to look at the pictures again. Gray had grouped them by victim and timeline. I noticed that beside the photos there were a few letters taped to the board. I read the first one, noting the bad handwriting.
Dear Boss, allow me to introduce myself again. I am an artist who has not worked in years. I give you this, my work. I don’t like whores, as I’ve stated before, and the town is full of them. I’ll rip ’em ’til they’re gone. Catch me if you can. No one has yet.
JTR
“He’s pretending to be Jack the Ripper.” I’d read enough and seen enough movies to recognize the drama.
“Oh, yes, he seems obsessed with the Ripper,” Gray replied seriously. “He has good intell though. I’m the only one who received the letters. The press hasn’t been informed of anything. I have to believe this guy’s a supe or he wouldn’t know to send his ‘art’ to me.”
“Have you found any bodies?”
“I figured out that the first three were killed in a warehouse in south Dallas.” He pointed to one of the pictures. “See, he got part of a logo in the shot. It took me a coupl
e of days, but I tracked down the warehouse. It was abandoned but I found some silver chains and some blankets. He was using it as his workshop. I staked it out, but he didn’t come back, and I got that letter a day later.”
Boss, clever, clever but I see you. You can’t catch me cuz my work is powerful good for the world. I’ll move my studio but I won’t stop ’til you nab me. I enjoyed this last one very much. She went down nice and just cried a lot. I like it when they know it’s time to go. I’ve moved all the bodies to a proper location, though they’ll be soup by the time you find them…if you find them.
JTR
“You think he’s a hunter,” I said quietly because I was thinking the same thing.
Gray didn’t take his eyes off the wall. I knew he’d memorized the pictures. He would carry them around with him and the vision might never go away. “The thought has crossed my mind. I also wondered if it wasn’t a vampire.”
“Why waste the blood?” It was obvious the women hadn’t been drained before he sliced them up. Vampires tended to be practical creatures. Of course, if he was looking for attention then it would have been a lot easier to get it by killing human prostitutes. He could dump the bodies and get all the press he wanted. If a hunter was trying to expose the underworld, he would dump the bodies where they would be found before they disintegrated. “It’s a supe, not a hunter. This person respects the rules in one fashion. He’s making sure humans aren’t involved. He hides the bodies somewhere they will be allowed to disintegrate and he’s only pulled you in. You’re the legal authority. Are we sure he hasn’t contacted anyone in the Council?”
“No,” Gray replied. “That’s one of the things I’d like to ascertain tonight. I can’t get into the vampire club itself. There’s no way to sneak in. I tried. It didn’t go well. These girls tend to start their night at Ether and then move on to the vampire club. We get in with Liv’s help and try to figure out who our other three victims are.” Gray went to a large file cabinet. He pulled out a handful of pictures. They were close-ups of the faces in the killer’s “art.” Gray had tried to make them as normal as possible, but I’d seen the complete picture and I was still disturbed.
