Someone snickered, and my face warmed.
“Whoring for the FIB, Morgan?” Denon said, ignoring Glenn. “I see the bus is picking you up again. Or did you need to use a disguise to get them to stop for you?”
I frowned, sensing Glenn’s rising anger. Denon’s honey-smooth voice made him sound like he should be hawking negligees on the women’s channel. My God, it was beautiful, and I wondered if it was what had attracted his vampire master in the first place. That, and his deliciously dark skin now marked and scarred beyond belief. It hadn’t been that way when he was my boss. Clearly things had changed.
“You seem upset, Denon,” I taunted. “I bet you had some ’splainin’ to do about almost releasing that murder victim.” I smiled sweetly. “Be a prince and run the updated coroner’s report over to me this afternoon? I’d be interested to see what you almost burned in the kilns.”
The witch snickered, and the last Were rose, his gaze darting nervously. Denon’s pupils widened to shrink the rim of brown about them. It wasn’t as obvious as last year. He was losing status with whoever had promised to turn him when he died. A few more years like this and Denon wouldn’t be much more than a shadow. And given his anger, I think he blamed me.
The Weres flanking him fell back at Denon’s thick, casually moving fingers. The man eased closer with the same grace as before, but it lacked the threat it once had. That I wasn’t trapped in a five-by-five cubicle probably helped.
“Leave,” he said, his words smelling of baking soda toothpaste. “This is an I.S. matter.”
Glenn stiffened, his hand nowhere near his gun. “Is that a refusal to let us examine the body?”
Denon moved his hard-muscled bulk gracefully in undeniable threat.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I cried, then lurched back when Denon’s arm shot out, his hand reaching for my raised arm.
Glenn moved, his squat stature stepping smoothly in front of me to grab Denon’s hand. In a motion as sweet and smooth as melted chocolate, he twisted Denon’s arm, levering the larger, muscle-bound man into submission. I blinked, watching with wide eyes. It was over already.
Bent at the waist, the living vampire shifted his weight. Glenn’s grip tightened, and his feet scuffed for better traction. The Weres retreated, tense as Denon’s neck reddened. Facing the ground and his arm held straight behind him, he was like a kitten being held by the scruff of his neck. Something popped, and Denon grunted.
Glenn leaned closer while holding the bigger man helpless. “You,” the FIB detective said softly, “are a disgrace.” He pushed on Denon’s arm, and the man grunted again, sweat beading up on his shaved head. “Either crap or get off the pot, but this halfway nothing is giving the rest of us a bad name.” Shoving him away, Glenn set his hand comfortably near the butt of his weapon.
Denon caught his balance and spun to face us. Hatred that Glenn had shown him up in front of his peons radiated from him. It was obvious his shoulder hurt, but he didn’t touch it.
“I can handle my own battles, Glenn,” I said dryly to distract Denon. I might survive one of Denon’s retaliations, but Glenn was vulnerable without his gun and the element of surprise.
Glenn frowned. “He wasn’t going to fight you fair,” he said, handing me one of those zip-strips with a charmed core of silver that the I.S. used to keep ley line witches in custody.
My eyes went from the innocuous-seeming strip of plastic to the witch, then to Denon, scowling. “You little pissant,” I said loudly. “What’s the matter with you? All I want to do is look at the body. You got something to hide?” I took a step forward, and Glenn caught my arm. “If you’ve got a beef with me, let’s do coffee and I’ll explain things to you in little words,” I said, jerking from Glenn. “Otherwise, get out of my way so we can do our job. Until murder has been ruled out, the FIB has as much right to look at the body as you do.”
The little vein in Denon’s forehead had popped, and the low-blood vamp gestured for everyone to fall back to the van. They moved slowly, hands in their pockets or fiddling with equipment. From out of sight, I heard the rustling of the FIB guys. The tension grew, not lessened, and I pressed my weight into the earth in case I had to move fast. Ceri’s advice to avoid ley line magic flitted through me, but I sent a thought out for the nearest line anyway.
“You’re a fool, Morgan,” Denon said, his resonant voice vibrating in me though he stood ten feet away beside a tall tombstone. “Your search for the truth is going to kill you.”