I knew little about werewolves. Like vampires, they were rare, and kept to themselves. Unlike vampires, they also policed themselves, meaning the council had no reason to deal with them. I knew only one half-demon who’d ever even met a werewolf…and she wasn’t all that sure that’s what it had been. So I had an excuse for not leaping to “he’s a werewolf!” conclusions. But, again, I didn’t accept excuses.
After about a minute of mental scanning, I picked up Marsten’s frequency. It was faint and flat—meaning he wasn’t causing any trouble. Not yet.
I focused on the signal and followed. Down two dark halls, skirting past the gala, down another hall—the same one I started in when I’d first left the party. I reached the fork again. Marsten’s trail went left, in the direction of that chaos residual I’d been tracking when his theft had diverted me. He was heading for the back exit.
Still concentrating on his trail, I went down the next corridor, turned the corner—and was smacked by a wave of chaos.
Marsten. Shit! He was—
No, a deeper, calmer part of me replied. It’s not him. It’s here. Something happened here. Something recent.
I’d been hit by two chaos waves, both originating in this area. They had to be connected.
I pushed aside the werewolf images, and focused on this new signal. The voice came again, that gruff voice telling someone he shouldn’t be back here. The plea. Then the scream.
When the wave hit me this time, I only rocked on my heels. Half the strength of the slap I’d felt in the main room earlier, even though I was at the apparent locus of the trouble. I filed this away as a lesson in separating residuals from current chaos, then closed my eyes and pivoted, trying to find the exact location—
There, around that next corner. I hurried to it, then walked into a wall of darkness. I braced myself as the visions flashed past.
Metal glinted. A blade winked in a flashlight beam. The flashlight clattered to the floor. A plea. No! Please—! The blade sheered down. Hands flew up. Blood sprayed.
I froze the vision there as I panted, my heart racing. I struggled to hold that last thought…and wondered why I was holding it.
Blood sprayed.
Blood.
I fumbled in my purse for my keys, took them out, and turned on my penlight. I waved the weak beam over the walls. There. Blood droplets, invisible in the near-darkness.
6
W ere the blood drops still wet? I almost reached up to one before snatching my hand back. Look, don’t touch, stupid. Standing on my tiptoes, I moved the light closer to the specks. They glistened. Still wet, but drying.
I swung the beam to the floor and found faint smears of blood that would go undetected until they turned on the lights in the morning…or noticed they were one security guard short.
So where was…? Follow the trail.
I stopped at a door a few yards away. Tissue over my hand, I turned the knob.
I half-expected a body to fall out on top of me. Too many horror movies, I guess.
The door opened into an office. I shone my flashlight around. Nothing.
As the door closed behind me, I grabbed it and twisted the knob, to make sure it wouldn’t lock me inside. Reassured, I eased the door shut, and moved toward the center of the room.
As I walked, I picked up a twinge of trouble. Yes, this had to be the right place. So where was the…?
A booted toe protruded from behind the desk. I hurried to it. The desk faced the wall, with a wide gap for computer cord access behind it, and that’s where the killer had stuffed the body. One end of the desk was against the adjoining wall and the other against a metal filing cabinet, so I had to crawl onto the desk to peer behind it.
I shone the flashlight beam into the gap, and bit back a yelp.
I resisted the urge to pull away. With something like this, I was sure the council would expect a report, so I had to get a good look.
A man lay faceup in the gap. His eyes stared at me, wide with that last minute of “I don’t believe this is happening” horror. His security uniform shirt was a mess of gaping holes, the edges torn, shredded, unlike anything a knife would do. The flesh beneath the holes looked…mangled. Chewed. It looked as if he’d been—
A hand clamped over my mouth.
“Found something you were missing?” a voice hissed.
I kicked backward. My foot connected, but a second arm clamped around my neck, and yanked me off the desk. It spun me around, and I found myself looking into a pair of blue eyes so cold and hard that my heart leaped into my throat. Karl Marsten.
“Did you think I wouldn’t smell the body when I walked by?” His voice was as cold and hard as his eyes, all traces of smooth charm gone. “You would have been wiser to let me leave through the front door.”