Embraced By Darkness

I had no idea what was going on, and no idea if he'd come in here to play or to hunt my scent, but I wasn't about to make it easy for him, I tossed my clothes onto the seat of my booth, then, still wrapped in shadow, slipped onto the dance floor, releasing the shadows only when the bodies began to press close.

I pushed deeper into the crowd, until the smell of lust was so was powerful it was almost liquid and space was at such a premium that it felt like a hundred different people were touching, pressing, and caressing my flesh. That was what I wanted, what I needed. My scent, mixed with many others, creating a confused riot of aromas that no mere human—keen nose or not—would be able to sort out.

It just might be enough to allay suspicion.

So I danced and teased, enjoying the heat of so many bodies pressed against mine, touching them and teasing them even as I enjoyed their caresses, their kisses. And while desire burned, while I ached to give in to the need that burned through my body, I didn't. I had that promise to Kellen to keep, and I would do so, even if it hurt.

It was a good ten minutes before I spotted him again, moving up the stairs and back out the doors. Relief swam through me. But though the temptation to leave was high, I knew it would be dangerous to do so just yet. I had to let the alarm die down. Had to give that man time to forget my scent.

So I continued to dance. And after a while, I spotted the white wolf I'd flirted with at the club's entrance walk into the room. God, had only half an hour passed? It seemed a whole lot longer than that.

Thing was, dancing with him probably wasn't a great idea. The less attention I brought to myself the better. So when he approached with eager lust in his eyes, I touched his mind lightly, sending him into the arms of a more than willing blonde. With him occupied, I got the hell off the dance floor, re-dressed, then left.

No one stopped me. No one even noticed my departure. Even the guard at the front door was too busy chatting up the woman in the payment booth to do anything more than give me a fake smile.

The brightness of the day made me blink. I let my eyes adjust for a moment, then walked over to my car. A scent lingered near the door, the sharp smell of a male, and I frowned, looking around. No one and nothing was near. Shrugging, I got into the car and headed back to the Directorate.

Only I didn't get that far, because Jack called with the news of another murder.

I pulled to a stop at the address he'd given me, and felt the sickness rise. It was one street over from Mary's, and almost directly behind.

The evil soul hadn't left, as I'd presumed. He'd simply found himself another victim.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath but it didn't do much to ease the queasiness ru

Cole appeared as I neared the front door, his features as grim as I'd ever seen them. "This one is nasty."

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my coat to hide their trembling. "Every one of these murders has been nasty."

"This one reaches a whole new level." He handed me a pair of slip-on foot-covers, and my stomach began to churn even harder. "There's only one person involved in this."

"What?"

"No husband," he said grimly. "No boyfriend, no lover, no significant other. Just her."

"But how is—"

He held up a finger, stopping my words. "Come and see."

I slipped the covers onto my shoes, then grabbed a pair of gloves, pulling them on as I stepped into the house. Like Mary's house, this one had a long hallway, and the bedrooms were all directly off it. The kitchen and living spaces were down at the far end of the house.

Our footsteps echoed on the gleaming floorboards as we walked. The smell of blood and fear stung the air, but mixed within those scents was the reek of anger. It was dark, that anger, dark and deep.

Our avenging sould hadn't gotten what he'd wanted, so he'd unleashed his fury on someone else. Someone who hadn't deserved it.

I stepped into the living room then stopped. The bird-shifter knelt near one of the walls, taking samples from the smears of blood that rained across the room. Cole's other assistant was carefully bagging the blonde hair that was scattered like pale snow all over the floor and furniture.

I gulped back bile, and looked to my left. The woman lay in a crumpled heap at the base of the bloody, smashed-in pantry. Her arms, her legs, her body—everything had been wildly slashed, and the offending knife was still clenched in her left hand. It was hard to say if her face had borne the same sort of self-mutilation, because there was nothing left of her face to sec. It was smashed beyond recognition, broken into so many pieces it resembled pulverized meat. There weren't even eyes. Somewhere along the line, they'd been gouged out.

My gaze went to the wall opposite, then back to the pantry door. Based on the blood pattern, he'd run her face first into one, then the other, back and forth.

I briefly closed my eyes and took a shuddery breath.

My fault.

All my fault.

This bastard had to be stopped before he could kill again.

"Death happened just after one last night, didn't it?"

Cole looked at me. "Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"Because I stopped the thing that caused this from taking the life of the woman who lives behind this house."

He frowned. "What thing?"

"it's a spirit," I hesitated. "A very dark and angry spirit."

He studied me for a moment, bright eyes perhaps seeing more than I wanted him to. "You can hardly be blamed for not stopping a murderous spirit. That's hardly a guardian's field of expertise."

"But I could have guessed he'd do something like this." His need for blood and revenge had simply been too great. I should have known that—after all, I'd felt the force of it, Kelt the fury in him.

Cole snorted. "You can't be held accountable for the bloody intentions of those you track. Get that thought well and truly out of your head, or you won't last long in this job."

I smiled grimly. "That could be a good thing, you know."

"Not if the little men with white coats come calling." He nodded toward the stains on the wall. "Whatever this thing is, it's got a mean temper. I'm not exactly psychic, and even I can feel the anger lingering on the air. I've called in one of the magi."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? How could they help with your investigations?"

"They can't. But by being here, they might be able to get some sense of what this thing really is, and how it might be stopped."

"It's worth a shot."

Hell, anything that could generate answers was worth a shot. I rubbed my arms. The chill in the room was growing stronger, and I wasn't sure if the cause was the fading day or a soul getting ready to appear. I hoped it was the former, not the latter. Part of me just didn't want to face the soul of the woman. Didn't want to face her fury and confusion.

How could a simple apology ever be enough?

"There is, perhaps, one tangible clue here." Cole bent and picked several strands of golden hair. "The soul or spirit or whatever it is seems to have a fetish for cutting off women's hair. He's even forced this woman to cut off her own hair. There can't have been many serial killers in our past with that sort of obsession."

"He might not have been a serial killer in life. He may have just killed an unfaithful lover, then suicided." And maybe that meant it was true that such souls roamed the earth, unable to enter heaven or hell or wherever else it was that regular souls went. Though it didn't explain how he'd gained the power to enter others and make them commit such atrocities. To others, and to themselves. "But you're right, it's definitely a clue."