Embraced By Darkness

"Keep me updated."

"Will do." I hung up and climbed into the car. The journey over wasn't a pleasant one, my mind more on the images of bloodshed than the road. It was a wonder I didn't crash.

Cole and his team were already in place and investigating by the time I pulled up. I ducked under the police tape and walked up the steps. The smell hit me almost immediately and I stopped, unwilling to face what I knew waited.

Because not only did death wait, but that thick sense of gloating evil, as well. It wanted a reaction. Needed a reaction.

And if my turning stomach was anything to go by, it might just get it.

Though I made no sound, footsteps began to echo through the house, heading in my direction. Cole was a wolf, even if he was a shifter rather than a were, and he must have scented me. He appeared out of the gloom of the hallway, stripping off bloody gloves and tossing them in the special waste unit that had been set up to one side of the door.

"It's as bad as the first one," he said, stopping in the doorway and filling my senses with his warm, masculine scent. It was a nice distraction, but one I knew couldn't last.

"Same deal as before?"

"Yeah, pretty much." His gaze swept me, but it was more clinical than interested. "You ready to face it?"

"Her," I snapped. "Her soul is a her, same as she was."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Just reached to one side and handed me another pair of those paper-thin shoe-covers. "Use these. It's pretty messy in there."

I slipped the things on yet again, then asked, "Has the husband been found yet?"

"Nope. But he's looking a likely suspect."

"Except if this murder is like yesterday's. Then something else is going down." I stood up and blew out a breath. "Okay, let's get this over with."

He stood to one side and waved me ahead of him. The stink hit harder the moment I stepped into the small hallway, filling every breath with the scent of death. I shuddered, and tried to ignore it.

Which was a hard thing to do when it seemed to permeate not only the air, but the walls themselves.

"Through the living room and into the kitchen," Cole said, his warm voice almost jarring against the cold stillness of the house.

I walked through the living room, avoiding the bloody splashes and bits of gore. The bird-shifter glanced up and gave me a nod as I passed him, then got back to examining the bloody handprint on the wall.

There were more bloody prints on the doorframe. I flexed my fingers, trying to ease the tension rolling through me.

I knew what to expect. Knew it would be bad. And yet, my stomach still recoiled when I saw the utter destruction of what once had been a human body. No mere man could have done this. Hell, even with the strength of a vampire and a werewolf behind me, I had serious doubts as to whether I could have done this.

My gaze stopped on her torso, hunkered down in a far corner under a table. Like yesterday's victim, a knife had been plunged deep into this woman's right eye, pi

And she'd died with a scream on her lips and terror locked in her remaining eye.

My stomach rebelled. I turned and ran for the front door, barely getting outside before I lost the contents of my breakfast into the shrubbery. I stayed there, bent over the mint bush, sucking in the scent as I tried to calm the trembling in both body and spirit.

I couldn't go back in there. I just couldn't.

I didn't care if her spirit was there. It wouldn't tell me anything I didn't already know—and I certainly didn't want to feel any more of her pain than what I'd already seen.

"Here, drink this."

Cole's soft voice came from behind me. I looked around, then accepted the glass of water he was offering. After rinsing my mouth several times, I sipped the remaining water, not wanting to stir my fragile stomach any more than necessary but needing to get some moisture back into my body. It felt like that house had drained me in more ways than one.

"I'm sorry," I said, after a moment. "That was very unprofessional of me."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But it's nice to know some of our killers still have a soft side."

"Oh, there's lots of soft things about me," I said, trying to force some lightness into my voice and not succeeding very well. "And if you play your cards right, I might just let you uncover them one day."

"A day I can wait for," he said, amusement mingling with concern in his bright eyes. "Did you get any sense of a soul in there?"

I shook my head. There was nothing in there but death that was bloody and raw. That, and the sense of evil that hovered gloating above it. Whether it was a soul or merely a lingering emotion I was somehow sensing, I had no idea. Rut I had no intention of opening myself up to it to find out.

I shuddered, and took another hasty sip of water. "She had no hair, just like the first victim."

"Yeah. Seems the hair fetish is a part of this, whatever this is."

"Did you find any hair at yesterday's scene?"

"No. Why?"

"Because the fiancé had some hair in his hand when I found him, but not enough, and I didn't see it dumped anywhere along the way. So what happened to it?"

"Anyone's guess right now."

Yeah, I guess it was. "Has anyone tried scenting out the husband?"

"No. I'm the only one here with a nose strong enough to do it, and I can't leave the scene until the investigation is done."

Which may well be too late to uncover anything useful. "You want to get me something with the husband's scent on it?"

He nodded, and moved back inside the house. My gaze swept the surrounding houses, seeing neat, cared for lawns and dwellings. Why had death come calling in this happy little neighborhood? What had this couple done to bring such destruction down upon themselves?

Cole came back out carrying a crumpled white business shirt. I took it from him and sniffed deeply, drawing in the musky scent of human male. Then I stripped off my jacket and sweater, and handed them to him, along with my purse.

"Keep these safe for me, will you?"

He nodded, then stepped back as I began to shift shape. In wolf form, Cole's scent leapt into focus—a delicious aroma that had my tail wagging and my hormones jumping. I studiously put my nose to the ground and tried to ignore it. After scuffing around for several minutes, I caught the husband's scent and followed it out onto the pavement.

I followed the trail down Kernan Street and onto Robinson, trotting past a mix of houses and apartments, all filled with life if not laughter. It made me feel warmer, somehow.

But dread began to fill me again as I crossed another road and entered another park. I suddenly had no doubt what I would find at the end of this trail, and find him I did. In a stand of trees near the lake.

Like Liam Barry yesterday, this man lay on his back. He'd died with a look of shock and agony on his face and the smell of terror lingering on his skin. The part not covered by blood and gore, that was.

I shifted to human shape, then called it in. Ten minutes before a cleanup team arrived. I swore softly, then set the phone to record, placed it in the branch of a nearby tree, and began my report.

And noticed there were only a few strands of dark hair clutched in his bloody fingers.

Where the hell was all the hair going?

I didn't know, but I had a feeling it was some sort of clue.

The cleanup team arrived precisely on time. I left them to it and walked back to the house. I didn't see any hair floating about on the breeze or caught in trees. Maybe it had already been swept down the street drains. Or maybe the answer was far more sinister.

Perhaps what I needed to do was check out past murders, and see if this pattern had been set elsewhere.