Emily marched to the door, yanked it open. She took three steps and came face-to-face with the boy who’d attacked her. His hands were cuffed and a uniformed officer stood on his right.
Her eyes widened in surprise. Perfect opportunity. She would-
"Demon! She’s a fucking demon!" The kid started screaming at the top of his lungs, shaking.
He sounded so absolutely certain that he was seeing a demon that Emily actually turned and glanced behind her just to make sure one hadn’t arrived. But no. It was just her.
"Look, kid, I’m not-"
"Kill the demon! Have to kill her!" He lunged forward in a blur of motion, his arms raised.
Emily heard a guttural shout from behind her. And then the boy barreled into her, sending her flying to the ground. He landed on top of her, and his fingers locked around her throat. Hell, not again.
"Have to destroy the demon. She’s evil. Destroy-"
Colin grabbed the kid and jerked him off her, shoving him back up against the wall. "You just made a serious fucking mistake."
The kid raised his arms, tried to use his cuffs to hit Colin. Colin growled and hit him in the stomach, driving the air from the boy’s lungs in a loud whoosh. Then he pulled back his fist and drove it into the boy’s nose. Bones cracked. Blood shot down the perp’s face.
Colin raised his fist back, bared his teeth.
The boy began to whimper. His body slid down to the floor and he wrapped his arms around his stomach, rocking back and forth.
Colin grabbed him by the collar and-
"Stop!" Emily ordered, pushing to her knees. Something about that kid-something was very, very wrong. "He’s not going to attack again."
"Damn right he’s not." Colin turned his furious stare onto the uniform. "What the fuck were you doing? Don’t you know how to secure a perp?"
The cop gulped, muttering apologies as he reached for the boy.
"Get him out of here, now!"
Emily stared down at the boy. "What’s your name?"
He shook his head, whispered, "Demon."
The uniform pulled him to his feet. "Come on, Trace. Fun’s over."
The boy went forward obediently, but he kept looking back at Emily, a frightened, lost look on his face.
"Well…" Brooks murmured, eyeing Emily with a hint of wariness. "Guess you aren’t the only one preoccupied with demons, huh?"
"The killer wants the world to know what he is." Emily sat in the chair across from McNeal’s desk. Colin sat beside her, and she could feel his intent stare on her.
He hadn’t spoken with her since the attack. But if looks could kill…
Damn. She’d been the one to get choked. She would have thought the guy could have shown more sympathy.
Colin wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic. She knew that. Could feel that. His rage practically filled the room.
She’d taken a few minutes to regain her composure after the attack. She’d retreated to the restroom. Discovered that she had red fingerprints on her neck. Her voice was scratchy, and the new suit jacket she’d purchased that morning had been ripped.
Actually, she’d had to buy a whole new wardrobe that morning. Thanks to the boy, Trace, all of her old clothes had been slashed. And so far, things weren’t looking up for her new items.
"Are you saying the Night Bastard wants to get caught?" McNeal asked, leaning forward.
His question jerked Emily back to the matter at hand. The Night Butcher, or, as McNeal liked to call him, the Night Bastard. She’d been working on his profile, updating it with information she’d garnered at the crime scene last night. "No, I didn’t say he wants to get caught. I said he wants people to find out what he is. He wants the humans to know about him, and to fear him."
"He wants them to know he’s a shifter," Colin muttered. "And that’s why he’s killing in his animal form?"
She nodded. "I think so. I also think he’s choosing human victims who are high profile to get more attention. Preston Myers was rich, high society. His murder was bound to go straight to the front page. Darla-"
"Was a hotshot reporter," Colin finished. "Course her killing would make every broadcast and paper in the state."
"This guy-he’s tired of hiding what he is. He wants the world to know about him. About all the Other. And I think he’ll kill as many humans as it takes to get his message out there."
"Shit." McNeal’s gaze darted to his shredder. "He’s deliberately leaving evidence for us, isn’t he? Evidence that proves he’s not human."
"Yeah, I think he is."
"Why?" McNeal’s fist hit the desk. "Coming out like this will just make humans terrified. They’ll fear him, hate him, hate all of us."
"He doesn’t care," she told him softly. "This guy-he thinks he’s all powerful. He’s gotten a taste for the killing." Her blood tasted good. "There’s something else you should both know." She took a deep breath. "I think the next victim-it’s going to be a cop."
"Fuck." From Gyth.
"How the hell do you know that?"
"Because he told me." Maybe I’ll do one of them next. Oh yeah, that’d be good. "He was at the television station last night. I–I felt him. Managed to get close enough to touch his thoughts." But the killer had gotten away.
So close.
"A cop." McNeal squeezed his eyes shut. "Christ. Yeah, that would definitely get the asshole more attention. He’d make the national news then. A fucking werewolf killing cops. Shit."
Would cops taste different? Would they try to fight more? "It’s going to be a woman," Emily said, wanting to give them all the information she had. "He…ah…likes the way women taste better."
Colin tensed.
"Shit!" McNeal lunged to his feet. "I want this bastard off the streets. I don’t want to play any more of his fucking games."
But there wasn’t much of a choice.
McNeal frowned at Colin. "Put everyone on alert. Let ’em know this crazy SOB is out there, gunning for one of our own."
Colin nodded, rose from his seat.
"I don’t want a bloodbath in my city," McNeal snarled. "And I sure as hell don’t want to see a cop with her throat ripped out on the six o’clock news."
But if the Night Butcher wasn’t caught, Emily knew that was exactly what would happen.
A hard knock sounded at the door. Brooks popped his head inside, not waiting for an invitation. "I’ve got some news you’ve all got to hear." He stepped forward, gripping a white piece of paper in his hands. "Guess whose prints just matched up with the unknowns we found at Gillian Nemont’s?"
Emily’s stomach knotted. Gillian was a demon. Have to destroy the demon. She’s evil.
"Sonofabitch." Colin shook his head slowly. "The kid."
Brooks handed him the printout. "Bryan Trace. Runaway. High school dropout. Demon hunter." His lips twisted at the last. "That’s what he told me he was, by the way. When the doctor was patching up his nose, he told me he was used to pain. Demon hunters have to be, of course."
Emily rubbed her temple. "I don’t understand what’s going on! Why would this guy target me? It makes no sense!" Unless…Emily straightened her shoulders. Unless the guy knew that some of her patients were Other and he’d thought that she was too.
"It gets better," Brooks murmured. "I’ve got a security tape of the guy going into the News Flash Five station yesterday afternoon."
The kid was connected to all the murders. But…"He’s not the Butcher," Emily said very definitely. Yes, the evidence was starting to mount, but it wasn’t Trace.
The boy was human. She hadn’t sensed anything supernatural about him.
Just an angry, confused, dangerous human.
Brooks shook his head. "It could be him," he argued. "He trashed Nemont’s place. That links him to Myers. If we canvas the neighborhood, we might even find someone who remembers seeing him at Preston’s place before the murder."
"You might," Emily said, "but I’m telling you, this kid isn’t the Night Butcher."