Popping the trunk, I walked around to the back of the car and pulled out a black blazer. I quickly tucked my shirt into my jeans and pulled on the jacket. I briefly tried to straighten my hair and wipe away some of the blood that covered the side of my face. Without seeing a mirror, I knew I looked like I had been dragged through hell. Yet part of convincing a human that we were something other than what we really were was giving them a good reason to believe us. And right now, I needed to be able to convince the cops milling around this crime scene that I was just another detective.
With my shoulders back and my head up, I walked down the street and past the threshold of the house, pausing long enough to wipe my feet on the brown and black welcome mat. As I passed each police officer, detective, and forensic investigator, I mentally pushed the image of my being another detective into their brains. It took a little extra push because my jeans were torn and dirty. There was also dried blood on my temple and along the side of my face from where my scalp had been cut by flying debris at Bryce’s house.
The process was tiring and the strain was already causing my head to throb along with all the other aches in my body. There were close to a dozen people in the area, not counting the neighbors that were standing in their front yards with looks of horror stretched across their faces. Normally, I wouldn’t dare to come into a crime scene littered with so many people, but three people were dead in less than twenty-four hours and I was beginning to fear that the body count was going to continue to rise if I didn’t find the killer soon. My people didn’t need to be drawn into the spotlight by some psychopathic loose cannon.
In the living room, I found Daniel standing on the fringe of the group huddled around the body sprawled on the floor. His lips were drawn into a frown, causing deep lines to crease his face. An unlit cigarette dangled from his fingertips, waiting for him to finally step outside again so he could light it.
The room was a cheery affair in pale orange with a darker orange acting as an accent. The sofa and chair were covered in white linen and surrounded a honey-wood coffee table. Pictures of flowers in black metal frames lined the walls.
Katie lay on the floor with her arms folded over her chest. It was strange. There was no look of strain on her face, no fear. From what I could see, there were no bruises, scratches, or signs that she had fought for her life. It looked as if someone had lovingly laid her on the ground after he or she was done with the distasteful task of killing the young woman.
But Daniel was right. Her head lay at a slightly odd angle, and broken bone poked and stretched the skin. Her neck had been completely snapped. Not the easiest of feats, and it was very likely that it had been done by a nightwalker. Her skin was also a stomach-turning shade of gray that sagged and hung loose on her body. Someone had drained her of all her blood. But I didn’t know of any nightwalker that could do such a thing in a single feeding, and this whole thing felt too neat for several nightwalkers to be involved.
“Forced entry?” I murmured as I came to stand next to Daniel. We both watched as one of the investigators snapped a series of pictures of the body and the rest of the room.
“No,” Daniel said, pulling the cigarette box from his pants pocket. He returned the loose cigarette back to the box and put the box in his pocket again. “It looks like Ms. Hixson let the murderer in. There’s no sign of struggle. She probably had no idea she was in danger.”
Katie probably knew her attacker. She let the person in when he or she arrived. And when she turned her back on her attacker, the murderer snapped her neck with no pain and little fuss. I frowned. I just couldn’t figure out who the killer was or why Katie was killed shortly after Bryce. Maybe they weren’t necessarily related.
Daniel finally looked over at me and nearly stumbled a step backward. I hadn’t bothered to adjust his perception of me. There was no need, and I had enough on my plate already. “You look like shit,” he whispered, trying to avoid drawing the attention of the others.
“So kind of you to say so,” I muttered.
“Trouble at the house?”
“It’s not there anymore.”
Daniel sighed as he rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. “Did you cause that?”
“I wouldn’t look like this if I did,” I grumbled.
“Same killer?” he whispered.
I shook my head slowly, frowning. “No.” I knew without a doubt that a nightwalker had killed Katie, while a human had been responsible for Bryce’s death.
“Linked?”
“I…I don’t know,” I admitted, wishing I didn’t have to.
Shaking my head, I left Daniel’s side and approached the corpse. I knelt down, ignoring the strange looks I was receiving, and bent over to sniff the body. Before I could get my face close to her, I picked up the overwhelming scent of perfume. It was everywhere; on Katie’s clothes, her hair, her skin. Whoever had touched her was smart enough to douse himself or herself in perfume so I couldn’t pick up the individual scent. Only a lycanthrope might have a strong enough sense of smell to pick it out, but there was a good chance that he wouldn’t recognize the scent of the nightwalker. Otherwise, Katie’s body did not yet reek of death and decay. She had been dead for less than two hours. Her neighbor had just missed walking in on the murder.
The one thing I was sure of was the fact that Katie had been killed by a nightwalker and the murder had occurred shortly after sunset, by someone the woman had possibly known. Katie’s death was too neat and tidy, and there was a lingering feeling of mercy and compassion. This was done by someone who knew her.
Pushing back to my feet, I walked back over to Daniel, keeping my back to the rest of the room. “Tell Archie to call me if anything interesting turns up.”
“You think something will?” he mocked me. We were looking at a woman that had been killed by the breaking of her neck and then drained of her blood, but there wasn’t a drop on the pale tan carpet.
“Like no puncture marks on an exsanguinated corpse?” I offered. When I was kneeling next to Katie, I noticed no puncture marks on her neck or in the interior of her arms. It was possible they were somewhere else on her body, but it was unlikely. It was more likely the nightwalker had healed the wound out of habit. “Yeah, he’ll find something interesting. You might want to also check the bathtub. Some of the blood might have been sent down the drain. I’ll be in contact.”
I quickly left the house and headed back to my car. This wasn’t good. I had a third dead body, and this one was caused by a nightwalker. The peace in my domain was crumbling around me, and the worse it got, the better the chance of humans discovering our secret.
Popping the trunk of my car with my remote, I tossed the blazer inside and pulled my shirt back out of my jeans. The night was not going well and it was about to get worse.
“I don’t think doing a striptease in the middle of the street is going to convince me to allow you to slide on this mess you’ve got in your domain. That’s the third dead body tonight, isn’t it?” Bishop asked from where he leaned up against a tree just a few paces from my car. I hadn’t noticed him there when I walked up because my mind was stuck on the problem at hand.
“You realize that I’m being set up,” I snarled at him, my temper getting worse as fear flooded my veins.
“You’re saying that all these people are being killed just to make you look bad so that you’ll be sent back to the Coven,” Bishop sarcastically said, scratching his chin. “It’s a possibility.”