The Darkest Kiss

Or what else could be called into being.

A chill ran across my skin and I rubbed my arms. Kade must have caught the movement, because he retrieved my sweater and tossed it to me. I pulled it on gratefully, then caught my coat. Wearing it didn’t seem to ease the chill, though.

Our footsteps echoed through the silent house as we made our way back up the corridor. The death scent was coming from the first room, and my steps slowed as we approached. I’d seen a lot of bloodshed and killing over the last year—had even done my fair share of it—but it never seemed to get any easier to confront.

I hoped it never did.

I hoped the part of me that mourned the wanton destruction of i

We stepped into the room. A large bed dominated the small space. Like the rest of the house, everything was white—only here, the brightness was alleviated by dark red patches that adorned the walls, the bedspread, and the carpet near the bed.

Like the woman I’d found yesterday, this woman was lying half-undressed, slumped across the bed. Her lacy bra dangled from the stump of her shoulder, and her torso was crisscrossed with bloody gashes. Gashes made with claws bigger than your average black house cat.

“Christ,” Kade said. “The press are going to love this. First James, then his lover, and now another member of Toorak’s finest.”

“The press won’t get anywhere near the story if Jack has anything to do with it. He’ll keep them focused on James.”

“Press have a nose for these things.”

“And Jack’s had plenty of experience restraining them.”

He grunted, but whether that was agreement or not was anyone’s guess.

“She hasn’t been dead all that long.” He stopped near the body and looked down at her. “Why would the cat come back to this house when she’d already used the woman’s face and knew she’d been seen?”

I shrugged. “Given that we’re probably not dealing with a rational mind here, maybe she simply didn’t think we’d trace her so easily.”

I stopped beside him. Unlike her body, the woman’s face was untouched, but the terror of her ordeal seemed frozen on her features. My gaze fell to her mouth, and I frowned.

“Is that lipstick?” I leaned closer to have a look. The odor of death and new decay overrode the metallic scent of blood, but the scent of cat and that vague, orange and jasmine aroma was present as well.

“Where?” Kade said.

I pointed a finger to the smear of red across the woman’s top lip. “It looks like someone wearing lipstick has been kissing her. The shoe guy had the same color on his lips.”

“So she kissed this woman before she killed her, then stole her identity and killed the shoe guy. Maybe we are dealing with a soul-sucker of some kind.” He studied her mouth for a second longer, then stepped back and looked around. “There’s an awful lot of fear lingering in this room. Fear and anger.”

“Anger?” I raised an eyebrow. “Same source, or different?”

“The anger is older. Deeper.” He frowned. “When I sensed it in James’s office, it felt ancient and powerful. Now it feels even more so.”

I’m glad he was feeling something, because I wasn’t. And really, that was begi

And, at least with these cat killings, it really did suggest that we were dealing with some sort of soul-sucker.

Goose bumps fled across my skin. I resisted the urge to rub my arms and said, “So our murderer is somehow gaining power every time she kills?”

“That would be my guess, yes.” His gaze met mine. “Which means we have to catch her soon, before she grows too powerful.”

“If we can bring down a god of death, we can bring down this thing. Whatever she is.” But I wished I sounded a little more confident. “What I don’t get is why she’s marking her victims first. I mean, why bother with three tiny slashes if she’s going to cut them up so badly or rip off an arm? And why would she do that to this woman and the shoe guy, and not to James and the first female victim?”

“Maybe it was some sort of test that developed into something more violent.” His gaze raked the woman’s body, and distaste flicked through his warm eyes. “And she didn’t only claw here. She’s nibbled.”

My stomach did an odd sort of flip-flop. “What?”

“Here.” He pointed to a small area near the woman’s left breast. The skin had been torn open, and globules of fat and flesh were evident. “Those aren’t claw marks around the wound. That’s teeth.”

“Why on earth would she be eating the flesh now when she didn’t before?”

“What better way to induce fear than to actually eat bits of your victim?” He shrugged. “She seems to be getting more violent with each murder, so perhaps this is all part of the escalation.”

I shuddered at the thought. I didn’t want to think about the mess her victims would be in if we didn’t stop her soon. “If that is a bite wound, then she was wearing a smaller form. And no one—not even a human—is going to stand around and let a cat nibble on their flesh. Besides, the woman was in the process of dressing—it would have been hard for the cat to sneak in a bite before the woman reacted.”

“We don’t know what other skills she has, besides her ability to shift her shape and size.”

That was true. I glanced at my watch and swore softly. I was late for my coffee appointment with Ben. “Look, I have to go chat to a man about another murdering psycho. You want to call in a cleanup team on this one?”

He nodded. “I’ll go talk to James’s secretary after that, see if he was the co

“Even if he was, how would they all be co

“With politicians you never really know.” He reached across and flicked my nose lightly. “It’s nice working with you, even if we can’t have sex.”

I gri

His warm brown eyes twinkled with sudden mischief. “Wouldn’t be the first time a woman has decided to eat me.”

“Yeah, but this one is taking more than a pound of flesh with her. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”

“No, and neither would my mares.”

“I don’t know,” I said, trying for a reflective tone rather than amused, but missing horribly. “I bet Sable is so far into her pregnancy she’s now cursing your pound or two of flesh and hoping it’ll disappear for quite a while.”

“No doubt about it,” he said with a smile. “But when she comes into heat again, it’ll be a different story.”

“She’s not a baby machine, you know.”

“She’s a mare. That’s what they do.”

So much for the enlightened world of horse-shifters. I shook my head and left.

Thanks to morning traffic, it took me close to thirty minutes to get to Lygon Street. Parking was as difficult to find as ever, so by the time I entered Chiquita’s, I was a good fifteen minutes late. The café was cozy rather than flashy in design, full of intimate tables and seating that wrapped around you and lent a feeling of privacy. Down at the far end of the room was one of those fire-places that looked like logs but was actually gas, and the air was warm enough to almost instantly snatch the chill from my skin.