"We do. And big windows." And a great big bed you'd look good lounging naked on.
He met my gaze, the scent of his lust spiking sharply. "In which you undoubtedly flaunt yourself."
"And why not? The neighbors don't complain."
"No surprise there." He looked away. "I'll see you at work sometime."
"You will, shifter. I'll make sure of it."
He looked at me again, but didn't reply. I climbed out of the car and walked up to the steps, aware of his gaze following my naked butt and this time working it for all I was worth.
He roared off as I opened the door. I grinned to myself, anticipating the challenge he presented, and ran up the stairs to my apartment. The door was locked, but a hard punch in just the right spot soon fixed that. Neither Rhoan nor I could see the point of good quality locks when the door itself was thinner than cardboard and the old lady who owned the building refused to ante up for better ones.
Of course, locks didn't keep out vampires, either—a point made obvious when I spotted my handbag, cell phone, keys, and clothes sitting neatly on the coffee table. I had no doubt my car would be parked up the street somewhere. How nice of Quinn to return them all.
I had a quick shower to freshen up, then pulled on my gym gear and filled a bag with a couple of dresses, some toiletries and some makeup. I had no idea where Jin intended to go after my treatments, so it was better to cater to all eventualities.
I grabbed my purse and cell phone, then called a cab. Ten minutes, they said. Knowing from past experience that it was more likely to be twenty than ten, I headed for the kitchen to make a coffee. The doorbell rang before I could take two steps. I opened the door to find Cole standing on the other side, his hands in his pockets and looking more than a little put out.
"Don't tell me," I said, raising my eyebrows, "that you've decided to taste a little werewolf action after all?"
"Hell will freeze over first," he muttered. He thrust a hand through his thick silvery hair. "Jack just called. There's been another body discovered and he wants us both there."
Chapter Seven
The woman lay on her back, her arms and legs spread wide, like a starfish. She was naked, and there was an almost rapturous expression frozen onto her dead features. As if the manner of her death had aroused her to the point of fulfillment.
Just like the other women we'd found.
A shiver ran through me, but I wasn't entirely sure whether the cause was horror, or the odd chill in the air. A chill that spoke to an awareness deep within, one that suggested we were not alone in this warehouse.
That dead things abided here.
I rubbed my arms and let my gaze slide down the woman's white body. Like the other victims, she'd been opened up from neck to knee, and all her main internal organs removed. There should have been a lot of blood after a kill like this, but there wasn't—and in many ways that was far worse. Because it meant someone had drained her—drained her while they sliced her and removed her organs. Drained her while she lay there with that rapturous look on her face.
I shuddered, suddenly glad I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. I don't think it would have stayed down at that point.
I forced my gaze from the destruction of her body and looked at her left hand. Like the other victims, she was missing half her little finger. The wound, though healed, looked extremely fresh.
And for some reason, her missing a finger made me feel colder—sicker—than anything else that had been done to her. Which was an extremely odd reaction, even for me.
I looked past her. Jack and Cole were standing in the far corner of the old factory, talking softly. If I concentrated, I could probably hear what they were saying, but it felt like too much effort when I could just ask Jack later on. I studied the immediate surrounds instead. Cole's team had been here for a good half hour by the time we'd arrived, so the few clues evident were already tagged. Like before, the sooty remains of a pentagram was visible on the concrete, and droplets of black wax littered the ends of each point. While I didn't know much about magic, I knew black candles indicated the darker paths rather than the light.
Though the mutilation of the body was enough to indicate that.
I looked back at the woman as something stirred. A wisp of thick air. Smoke, perhaps, curling softly in the air, barely visible against the bright lights the clean-team had set up.
Another chill ran through me.
It wasn't smoke.
It was her soul.
And as it found shape, it found voice, words. Dahaki, it said. Azhi Dahaki.
The chill got fiercer, until it felt like fingers of ice were creeping into my soul. As if the woman's soul brought with it the fierce cold of the underworld. Who the hell is Azhi Dahaki?
I wasn't entirely sure whether I said that out loud or telepathically. Wasn't sure if the woman's spirit would even answer.
It stirred softly, a body of smoke with no features that gently rotated. But with every turn, energy built in the air, until the small hairs along the nape of my neck were standing on end. Only then did the words come again. You must stop him.
With that statement, the energy fell away, and the soul disintegrated, fleeing to whatever region of afterlife it was bound for.
I took a deep, shuddering breath. It was bad enough that I was seeing souls—now the fucking things were beginning to talk to me.
"Riley?"
Jack's voice was soft, filled with caution, but I jumped all the same. I looked up, saw that he was standing only a few feet away. Cole stood beside him, a concerned look on his face. I hadn't heard either of them move.
"It talked to me, Jack." I rubbed my arms. "It actually damn well spoke."
"I did warn you that might happen."
I snorted softly. "Yeah, well, I was hoping you were wrong." I looked down at the body, to where the soul no longer hovered. "I don't want to be talking to the spirits of dead people, Jack. It's just too creepy."
Cole's eyebrows rose. "You can converse with spirits? Cool."
I gave him an annoyed glance, and concentrated on Jack. "It said a name—the same one Dunleavy's soul gave me. Only this time it was Azhi Dahaki. A full name, perhaps?"
"It's quite possible. It's an odd name, though."
"Well, it's an odd talent." And that's precisely why Jack had brought me down here tonight. He'd been hoping I'd see something. "Have you got an ID on her yet?"
"Karen Herbert," Cole said, looking down at the PDA in his hand. "Twenty-two years old. Lived alone. Parents currently holidaying in Queensland."
I looked at Jack. "The Karen Herbert? The one I asked for a background check on?"
He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Afraid so."
"Well, if that isn't proof positive there's a link between Quinn's case and ours, I don't know what is."
"Which is why, when you see him next, you will be questioning him."
Yeah. Like that was going to result in anything useful. I waved a hand at Karen's face. "She didn't die in terror. There were no drugs found in the systems of the other women, and I doubt there will be here. It once again suggests she came here willingly, Jack."
"Or that there was psychic influence. That can't be traced after death, remember."
"Jin's not psychic, so maybe I'm following the wrong person."
"If Jin's blocking you telepathically, he's a psychic of some sort. Plus, he shares a house with the woman Quinn is following, he works at the same place as Dunleavy's girlfriend—who was killed by Gautier because she'd seen or heard something—and he has a ring the same as one found at a murder scene. It's too much of a coincidence. Everything is connected. We're just not seeing the complete picture yet."