He was built big, and his pale skin seemed to glow with an almost luminous light against the shadows. He wasn't anyone I recognized, and he certainly wasn't the man Adrienne had drawn.
He walked toward the main door, flung it open, then stepped through. Giving me my one and only chance to leave this room. I ran forward. Again the tingling swept my skin, and part of me wondered if there were DNA sensors involved that could warn if someone other than approved personnel went through it. It would certainly explain the quick appearance of the two men.
The door was closing. I ducked through fast, trying to avoid the guard but not entirely succeeding. One breast brushed his arm. I cursed inwardly but dived toward the deeper shadows, away from the door and the guard.
"What the…" the guard said, before my mind rushed into his and stopped the words.
"What?" The other man asked immediately, as he turned around.
It was then that his scent actually registered. Spicy, warm, and human. But also very familiar.
Because it was the scent that belonged to Jared Donovan, Monitor Island's boat driver and serial flirt. Only it couldn't be. This man looked nothing like Jared—practically their only similar feature was their eyes.
I had to be mistaken. Humans didn't have similar scents—they might all share a strange preference for covering their base scent with all sorts of man-made fragrances, but anyone with a keen nose could always smell past that. My nose was as keen as anyone's, and it had never been wrong.
Until now.
"Mike?"
The sharp question made me jump. I tightened my mental grip on the guard and made him shrug. "Sorry. A goddamn bug bit my neck."
The big man snorted softly then spun on his heel and walked into the Executive Room. I followed fast before the doors could close, then scooted down the steps and along the dance floor, keeping the shadows close and stripping as I ran.
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 running through me, I didn't want to go near the place, I really didn't. Rut I forced my feet toward the house. Whatever had happened in there was my fault, and the least I could do was face the woman's soul and apologize.
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.