Deadly Desire

Chapter Nine

"I thought you were going to bring in the teenager with the birthmark to stop her being used," I said, voice sharp.

"We did. And we tracked down the five vamps who I know like body imperfections. This isn't one of them. I think it was a last-minute deal."

Or an outpouring of anger that the sorcerer's plans had been frustrated.

"So how much worse than decapitation and body parts being hacked away can it be?" I said, half wishing I'd stayed in bed and not answered the phone.

"Lots, from what Cole is saying. He's there now. I want you to head over and see if you can feel anything."

"I haven't felt any souls up to now, so why do you think I'd feel one at this murder?"

"Because this time, they killed the woman who was with him. She was human, and she just might be confused enough about her death to still be there."

"We don't know that both women are involved in the vamp killings. You'd think Cole would have found some evidence of wheelchair use in at least one of the murder scenes by now."

"Not if she was using her crow form."

"The worst a crow could do is peck someone to death."

"When we're talking about sorcerers, anything is possible."

I guess that was true. "It'll take me fifteen minutes to get ready."

"I want you there by four," he said, and hung up.

I glanced at my watch. He'd given me a whole twenty-five minutes. How generous of him. I downed my coffee then headed for the bathroom.

Although I got ready in record time, it still took me thirty-five minutes to get through the city traffic to Brighton.

Cole glanced around as I walked into the third-floor apartment, then made a show of looking at his watch. "You're late."

"Bite me," I muttered, in no mood for frivolities right now. The metallic tang of blood was thick in the air, but it was the reek of magic that turned my stomach. It was so strong my skin crawled against the sensation. "So who did they kill this time?"

"Our vamp is one Jason Burke. He's got a reputation as a philanderer, and has only just moved down here from Queensland. Apparently things were getting a little heated up there for him." Cole paused and smiled. "From what I heard, there were several husbands armed with sharpened sticks coming after him."

I didn't smile. I didn't have the energy. "Where are the victims?"

"In the bedroom."

Which was where the other victims had been caught, even if they hadn't all been killed there. At least there was one constant. "What time were they killed?"

"Approximately eleven last night."

Jessica had been in the club giving me the evil eye at that time, so she couldn't have been involved, no matter what Jack might think. "Any reason why Jack would say that these murders are worse than before?"

Cole snorted. "Because they are. They look as if they've been torn apart by dogs, although the tear marks don't actually match any dogs that I know of."

"Not even hellhounds?"

"Haven't had a whole lot of experience with them, but it seems to me they don't actually leave pieces. They consume it all."

"They seem to. And the woman who controls the hellhounds was at the club at the time of the murders."

"Doesn't mean she couldn't have sent her beasties here."

"Or that the other sorceress couldn't have raised her own little beasties."

"True." Cole's gaze was still on me, still intent. Although he couldn't see the injuries I'd received last night, I had an odd sense he knew about them anyway. A suspicion he confirmed by asking, "Are you okay?"

"Had a brush with said beasties last night. They're now ash blowing on the wind." I gave him a lopsided smile. "But I actually think it's the late-night working. Its done me in more than the hellhounds' efforts. I'll be glad when this job is over."

"Yeah, irregular working hours can be a bitch." He waved a hand toward the bedroom. "Dobbs and Dusty are in there at the moment. That's not going to interfere with your psychic radar, is it?"

I shook my head and grabbed a pair of plastic shoe covers from the little box on the table. I'd need them if this murder was as bad as everyone was saying. "Do we know who the other victim is yet?"

"Denita Lowe," Cole said, carefully picking up a hair and placing it into a plastic bag. "A forty-six-year-old woman with a hubby and two kids."

So Burke had continued his philandering ways despite his trouble up in Queensland. "The husband been told yet?"

Cole shook his head. "I think Jack is waiting until we find enough of her to get an official ID."

I frowned. "If you haven't got enough, how do you know who she is?"

"Purse over by the door."

"Oh." Of course. I turned and headed for the bedroom. There was no use delaying it any longer. Besides, I had to report to the club in an hour.

The intense sensation of vile magic hit the minute I walked into the room. It was stronger here than at the previous murder scenes, but maybe that was because the crime was fresher, too. But there was another scent that mingled with the feel of magic-the faint whiff of roses.

Hanna Mein's scent, not Jessica's.

The room itself was a mess. It might once have been painted a very pale blue, but you'd hardly know it. Blood had been smeared from one end of the room to the other, and larger chunks of flesh and bone dribbled off just about everything-the beds, the lamps, the ceiling lights, even the painting frames. It was in such a state that it was hard tell which bit was male and which was female.

Bile rose and goose bumps prickled my skin. I might be a guardian, but scenes of gore and guts like this were not something I was used to yet. And I hope I never did get used to them. Hoped I would never be blase about useless, wanton destruction of life.

I rubbed my arms, half wishing I'd grabbed my coat out of the car, then stopped as power began to caress the air and an odd tingle raced across my skin.

There was a soul here.

I looked around the room, but for several minutes saw nothing remotely "otherworldly." Yet the ever-sharpening tingle of energy told me something waited.

Then a faint wisp of white appeared in the far corner of the room. It was little more than a curl of smoke, barely visible in the sharp sunlight pouring through the window. Certainly it was nothing that could be defined as ghostlike, and could easily have been mistaken for a puff of dust from the nearby chair Dobbs was moving.

But it wasn't.

And the power that spun all around me, as well as the growing chill in the air, only confirmed it.

Tentatively, I reached out with my thoughts and asked, What happened to you?

Not so long ago, my ability to sense and hear souls had developed to where I could now converse with them telepathically-although not all souls seemed to have the strength to talk. Those that did seemed to be drawing additional strength from me, often leaving me feeling drained. Cole, who'd seen it happen a number of times now, thought it was dangerous-that the souls might just end up drawing me into the lands of death if I wasn't very careful. Jack and the magi weren't so sure that was possible.

I didn't know who was right, but I wasn't about to take any more risks than necessary. Death was one thing. Lingering on the plane of death-or wherever else it was that souls who were killed before their time went-was not on my agenda for the moment. Or any moment, actually.

The soul didn't answer, although the energy in the air was increasing. Frowning, I tried again. What happened to you?

Death happened, came the reply, the voice feminine but as strong and as powerful as the energy that spun around me. What do you wish to know?

I frowned. Unlike most of them, this soul wasn't confused by what had happened, nor did she seem particularly angry. Which was odd, given her fate. And the energy that crawled all around me seemed to be more than just the energy of the dead-though how that could be possible, I didn't know.

I need to know what you saw. I want to stop this killer before she kills someone else.

The soul didn't answer immediately. I waited, watching the wisp of smoke, wondering what went on in the mind of the newly dead. She seemed calmer, more accepting, than any of the other souls I'd come across, but I had a suspicion that appearances were deceiving.

I do not have the time to tell you all that I saw, the soul said eventually, for even now, my final journey calls.

Then tell me what you can.

It is easier if I show you. The wisp of smoke moved, drifting out from its corner, and the chill in the air increased until I was shivering with it.

How do you plan to show me? But even as I asked the question, I pretty much knew the answer. And I wasn't entirely sure I wanted anything to do with it-even if the cost was not getting a much-needed lead on our killers.

She wanted to merge with me.

It will not be painful, the soul said. Just… different. Exhausting.

You can't know that.

Yes, she said, her voice softer than before, suggesting her strength was fading even if the energy that pulsed all around me was still diamond bright. I can. I did it many times when I was alive.

She was drifting closer and closer, and I had to resist the temptation to step back.

You were a clairvoyant? I asked, surprised. How come you didn't see this coming?

I communed with the dead, like you, she said. I was able to become one with them, to see and remember what they remembered. My own future was not something they-or I-could have ever predicted.

If they had, would she have avoided the vampire? Or would she have accepted her fate because it was meant to be? I very much suspected the latter answer was the correct one.

And then she was on me, in me, filling me with the cold of the afterworld, chilling me down to the bone, to my very soul. Then there was nothing but images and sensory details-details that flashed by almost too fast. A man's face, soft in the aftermath of lovemaking. The sensation of evil rising, combined with the fleeting scent of rose. The spurt of fear as a sphere of darkness formed at the end of the bed, and the face of a woman, her body merging into the blackness. Dust, thrown by pale hands, scattering across the bed, settling in a choking cloud. The woman stepped forward, revealing dark hair and green eyes that shone bright with power. Power that flashed from her fingertips-lightning bright and razor sharp. Power that tore, without thought, without care, through flesh and bone alike. The world became one of pain, nothing but pain, until the relief of death…

That is all, the witch said, her voice broken and fading away. Catch her. Stop her.

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. My energy was as drained as the soul's, and as she faded away, so did I.

When I came to, I was lying on one of the leather sofas in the living room. Cole was close to my left side, a bloodied cloth in one hand and a take-out cup of coffee in the other.

"What the hell happened?" he said the minute he saw I was awake.

"Lack of caffeine in my system," I muttered, sitting up somewhat gingerly and reaching for the coffee. I took a sip, felt strength and heat begin to flow through my body, and sighed contentedly before squinting at the cloth he was holding. "Why are you holding a wet cloth?"

"Because you collapsed into a puddle of body bits, and I didn't think you'd appreciate it being left on you."

My stomach turned at the thought, though at least it explained why my jeans were clinging to my legs. I resisted the urge to strip them off and gave Cole a wan smile. "Thanks for that."

He nodded. "So what happened?"

"The soul sort of merged with me."

"What?"

"Yeah, surprised the hell out of me, too." I grimaced. "I saw everything she saw. Felt everything she'd felt." I shuddered at the memory. "Hanna Mein did this."

"Then we can take her out," Cole said.

"Except that we have no hard evidence." I might know that Hanna had killed this couple-and probably the other vampires-but knowing and actually proving it enough to justify a kill was another matter entirely. Hanna Mein might be a sorceresses, but she was also listed as human, and there was a whole different set of rules for humans. Even humans gone bad.

Now had it been Jessica who'd done this, it would have been kill first, ask questions later. She was a shifter, so all bets were off when it came to her crimes. It might not be right or fair, but it was still the humans who made the rules in this world, and there was nothing the rest of us could do about it until the status quo changed in government.

"Proving suspicions may not matter in this case. Not when one of the victims was a close friends of Jack's."

"These women have been killing vamps in other states, possibly for a very long time. I don't think either will be easy kills. They will have taken precautions of one kind or another."

He grunted then pushed to his feet. "Are you feeling better?"

"Well enough that you can stop baby-sitting and get back to your job."

"Good." But he said it with a smile in his blue eyes.

I swung my feet onto the floor and sat up. Weakness washed through me and, for a moment, the room spun. Being infused by the dead had taken more out of me than I'd thought.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Cole asked, standing back but looking ready to catch me should it be needed.

"I'm fine. Really." I glanced at my watch and saw that it was after five. "I'm going to be late for my new job if I don't get a move on."

And I couldn't not go there, even if Jessica now suspected me. We needed concrete evidence before we could move against the two women, and to get that, I needed to be near them. And at least if she was watching, and worrying, about me, she wasn't out there sending zombies after innocent kids. I doubted she'd try anything in the club. There were too many possible witnesses.

Cole grabbed my elbow as I rose, and thankfully held me steady as the room spun around again. "God, that's unpleasant," I muttered.

"Maybe you shouldn't drive-"

"I'll be fine," I interrupted, pulling away from him. "I just need more coffee and some food."

"Figured you might need something to eat, so I bought some hamburgers. They're over near the door."

I smiled and rose up on my toes, kissing his cheek lightly. "If you're not careful, wolf, I might begin to think you actually like me."

"Then you'd be thinking wrong," he said, blue eyes twinkling. "Get, woman, so I can go back to work."

I left, grabbing the bag of burgers on the way out. Of course, traffic was hell and it took me forever to get back home. By the time I'd showered, changed, and caught a cab to the club, I was a good hour late.

They weren't happy, but I mollified the night manager somewhat by promising to make up the time working a couple of extra hours on the following, and busier, Friday night.

I changed into my almost nonexistent dance gear and shiny stiletto heels, and headed into the main room. I checked the board to see my stage times, and saw that I'd been allocated shifts in both the main room and the sports bar. Which would enable me to have a closer look at both the locked doors while keeping an eye out for our two murderers. Who, according to the minds I'd briefly scanned, hadn't been seen at all during the day.

Fate was obviously giving me a break for a change.

The crowd in the main room was smaller tonight, but no less noisy, and the bartenders seemed to be running to keep up with the drinks orders. I couldn't immediately spot Kye, nor did I get that surge of awareness that suggested he was near-although that didn't mean he wasn't here. He could have been in one of the other rooms. I talked to various patrons as I made my way around the room, dancing for some and having drinks bought for me from others-a practice management encouraged because that's where the real money was-all the while working my way toward the locked and guarded door.

There was an old guy sitting at the table nearest the door, and for a moment I thought it might have been Kye. He was the right height and had the same broad shoulders, but this guy's hair was a matted brown, and he reeked of booze, stale sweat, and humanity. I doubted even a werewolf as stoic as Kye would stand that odor for very long. Besides, the sharp awareness that always warned of his presence, even if it didn't pinpoint a location, was absent.

At any other time, I might have avoided the old guy like a plague, but he happened to be sitting in the perfect position to study the door more closely without raising suspicions.

I walked around the table so that I was upwind of him, then pulled out a chair and sat down beside him.

"Don't want a dance," he said, voice sharp and crackly. "I ain't gonna pay you anything, girlie, so you can just be off and harass someone else."

I was about to ask the old grump what the hell he was doing here if he didn't want any personal attention, but the guard was in earshot and I doubted they'd be happy with a dancer bad-mouthing the customer. Even a grumpy, stinky, old one.

So instead I took off a shoe and rubbed the ball of my foot. "I'm actually just giving my feet a rest. But if you mind, I'll move on."

He harrumphed. "I ain't buying you a drink, either. Not at them bar prices."

I continued to rub my foot, surreptitiously studying the door lock as I did so. It wasn't only fingerprint coded, it had an iris scanner as well. Which in itself wasn't a problem, except that all the guards wore nanowires. I might be able to get past them and force him to open the door, but it would mean a concerted effort on my part, and that would certainly be dangerous considering that the cameras were constantly checking out the room. A dancer standing still apparently concentrating on nothing was sure to attract attention. Which meant I'd have to find a way to short the cameras out first-all without raising an alarm in the security room.

No easy task, whichever way I looked at it.

I sighed and glanced at the old man. His brown eyes were still regarding me suspiciously, and they had an oddly flat look about them. Contacts, I thought, for no particular reason. And wondered again if it was Kye.

After all, it'd be just like him to go for a disguise that he knew would turn me off. And he had told me a number of times he didn't want a lap dance.

"So, do you come here often?" I leaned back on the table to ensure his view of my breasts was unobstructed by the short, gauzy jacket I was wearing.

"First time," he said, his gaze sweeping my body then moving away swiftly. Pink tinged his cheeks.

If it was Kye, he was a damn good actor.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Don't mind the stage shows." His gaze raked me again, and he licked his lips. I couldn't smell his excitement. Couldn't smell anything except that overriding, unwashed, boozy scent. "Don't like all the table attention, though."

"It's part of our job to talk to all the customers." My gaze moved past the grumpy old fart as one of the money men moved in our direction. The various club tills were regularly cleared out of big notes-a result, I'm told, of the club being hit by robbers within the first few weeks of its opening. If he was heading this way, then maybe the vaults were behind door number one rather than any sort of secret magic chambers.

"Just as it's a part of your job to wrangle money out of them," the old guy said. "But you ain't wrangling anything out of me, young lady, so you might as well not waste your time."

I shoved on my shoe and switched feet. "As soon as my feet stop aching, I'll leave you in peace."

"Well if you wore sensible shoes, sore feet wouldn't be a problem."

"Sensible shoes aren't pretty," I said, my attention more on the guard than on what the old guy was saying. The money handler had reached the door, and the camera above me whined as it began to rotate. I glanced up, watching it do a complete circuit of the club. Only when it had finished did the guard press his hand, then his eye, against the scanners.

There was a pause, then several clicks, before the door opened ponderously. I leaned sideways a little to catch a glimpse of the hallway beyond, and saw the old guy do the same.

Saw his intent expression.

And knew, without a doubt, that it was Kye.

I'd seen that intentness too often now to mistake it.

Why I wasn't getting that surge of awareness I had no idea, but right now, that wasn't important. Seeing what was beyond that door was.

I leaned further, placing a hand on his leg to support myself. Felt the muscle and the strength underneath the stained and ratty pants, as well as a surge of electricity and awareness that just about short-circuited every sense I had. I hadn't been wrong. This was definitely Kye.

"You owe me a hundred," I said softly, making it look like I was whispering sweet nothings when all the time I was eyeing the hallway.

It wasn't much. Just a short, concreted area that led to another large door, this one metal. A vault, not a sorcerer's secret place of mischief.

The guard shifted and I flicked my gaze to Kye, who was looking at me like I was nuts.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, still sounding like a man who drank and smoked too much. A voice modulator, obviously.

I slipped my shoe back on and rose. "Of course you do," I said, stepping past him then stopping to add softly, "and that door is not our target. Meet me in the sports bar at eleven."

He didn't check his watch. Didn't do anything but scowl at me. I smiled and headed for the stage to do my floor show.

By the time I'd finished, Kye had gone, but that didn't surprise me. With the first door out of contention, he'd probably already moved into position to check out door number two.

I could only hope he stank less when I found him again, or I wasn't going to be able to talk to him long, let alone do the promised lap dance.

Although now that he knew I was onto him, he might very well change his look. He might be on the prowl for his targets, but I didn't think he was above providing a challenge in the process.

For the next few hours, I continued my shift in the main room, chatting up customers, giving them lap dances, earning money, and fending off the occasional grab. When I'd finished my second stage show, I headed to the staff lounge for my break and to eavesdrop on the local gossip. To date, the topic of conversation had consisted mainly of bitching about the customers and very occasionally about other dancers. I was sipping my coffee and only half listening when one of the busty blondes said, "God, wasn't the boss in a bitch of a mood last night? I'm glad she hasn't turned up tonight."

The other blonde-who I only knew by her stage name, Sammy-snorted softly. "I could hear her screaming all the way down in the dressing rooms. Do you know what happened?"

The blonde sniffed. "Rumor is that she had a special lined up and the girl didn't appear. She took her frustrations out on a customer in another room and beat him up pretty bad."

"One lawsuit coming up." Sammy shook her head, though her expression was one of amusement more than disgust. "I thought she'd given up dancing."

"Apparently she likes to keep her hand in." The blonde hesitated, then leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "She likes the younger ones, so she's always on hand to help out when we have some young bucks in."

"She can have the young ones. They're all hands and no damn cash. Was an ambulance called?"

"No. And the cops didn't show, either, so it couldn't have been more than a few slaps."

"So why did they shut the room down? It's been out of action all day, apparently."

I continued to look at the paper, but I wasn't really reading anything. Instead, I reached out telepathically, linking lightly with the blonde's mind. I delved stealthily but deeply into her memory centers, fishing though quickly until I caught the images she was talking about. I wrapped around them, drawing them into me, remembering them as she remembered-not only seeing and hearing, but smelling.

What I smelled was blood. Lots of blood.

Hanna Mein hadn't injured. She'd killed.

So, did that mean the couple she'd slaughtered had been nothing more than a last-minute substitution for the special that had been canceled? Or had they been just another release for the anger, as the man she'd danced for-then killed-had been?

I continued to sort through the blonde's memories, but she hadn't actually seen anything. She'd been stopped at the doorway, and had gotten the information from the guard stationed there.

I withdrew and flipped over the page as I took a sip of coffee.

The blonde shrugged. "It was due for refurbishment. Now there's a new chaise lounge and a fresh coat of paint on the walls." She glanced at her watch and rose. "I get to christen the new surrounds in five minutes."

"Give him hell and make him pay," Sammy said with a grin.

"Always do, love, always do." The blonde dropped a kiss on the other woman's cheek then walked out.

I finished my coffee, rinsing the bitter dregs in the sink before heading down to the change rooms to get into my other outfit for the evening-a soft striped silk that looked like something a jockey would wear, except that it didn't fully cover my breasts. Every time I raised my arms even slightly, out the girls popped. And even though there were plenty of women walking around without covering tops of any kind, the outfit had proven to be extremely popular with the guys despite its impracticality.

The sports bar was half full, which wasn't bad considering it was a Monday night. There were a heap of men sitting at the tables near the big screen, watching some boxing match, but there were many others playing pool or simply chatting with various dancers at the other tables. The name of the game in this room wasn't pool or chatting, but getting the customers to spend money on drinks, or interested enough to spend big in the fantasy rooms.

I scanned the room as I walked around the edge, looking for Kye in his grumpy old man outfit. Not a sign of him. Which meant either he wasn't here, or he'd changed, and I was betting on the latter.

I was three quarters of the way around the room when awareness of Kye washed over me-a short, sharp caress that was gone almost as fast as it had arrived. I turned and saw a spiky-haired blond man walk into the room and then stand, arms crossed, in the shadows near the door, his gaze on the big screen.

He looked totally different than before. Gone was the ratty coat, the slouched stance, and almost grimy appearance. In its place stood a broad-shouldered, muscular man wearing faded, hip-hugging denims and a crumbled, pale pink shirt that suited his golden skin and bleached hair. He looked more like a builder than a hit man, and even though I couldn't deny the surge of attraction, that was the one thing I couldn't ever forget-that he was a hit man. That he was extremely dangerous.

I stepped out of the shadows. The minute I did, he shot a glance my way. This time his eyes were green, and they gleamed like the brightest emeralds in the half-light of the bar.

There was nothing warm about his gaze, nothing friendly about the way it latched onto me, and yet the shiver that ran over me was all heat, all desire. Maybe it was simply the danger he represented that pulled at me so fiercely. The feeling that every minute I spent with him could be my last. That no matter how strong I was, no matter how fast, this man could counter it. That he would counter it, if I ever got in the way of his aims.

Danger was an aphrodisiac to a wolf, and my wolf was reacting to it as fiercely as she ever had.

"You're looking like a man who needs to play some pool," I said softly as I stopped beside Kye and touched his arm. The contact was as electric as ever, and only served to confirm his identity.

A smile flirted with his lips, then he glanced past me. "There's a table available over there." He nodded toward the locked and guarded side door. It wasn't the only spare table, of course, but it best suited our purpose. "How about we take that?"

"Perfect." I tucked my arm through his, letting my hips brush against his as we walked. Tension rose between us-all sexual-until it fairly crackled.

The guard didn't even look at us as we stopped at the table. His scent said he was human, so he wouldn't overhear any conversations as long as we kept it low.

Like all the other guards in this place, he was wearing a wire, but there was also what looked to be a small two-way radio hanging around his ear. Every now and again he'd murmur something, and the camera would react by moving.

It wouldn't have surprised me if they were monitoring conversations, so we'd have to keep an eye on the camera position to make sure it wasn't pointed our way. And while we could talk telepathically, that would look suspicious to anyone who might be watching.

"So what happened to the old man?" I asked softly as Kye racked up the balls.

"He's laying in a rubbish bin as we speak." He picked up the cues and handed me one. "You going to break?"

I glanced up at the odd emphasis he placed on "break" and saw the teasing, almost mocking, light in his green eyes. I arched an eyebrow. "I never break unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Really?" he drawled. "Maybe I should test that little statement."

I took the cue from him, then leaned a little closer and whispered, "This from the man who absolutely didn't want a lap dance."

"Oh, I still don't. But then, I'm not the one aching from head to foot, am I?"

"Oh, really?" I chalked the end of the cue then bent over right in front of him, so that my butt casually brushed his groin. The man was definitely understating his current state of desire.

"That sure feels like a whole lot painful to me," I murmured, drawing the cue back and sending the little white ball spinning into the others. Colored balls scattered everywhere, none of them going into the pockets. The cue ball come to rest close to where I was standing, so I remained where I was, forcing him to come closer.

"I think we need to check out one of the private rooms," I said. My breath hitched as he casually lined up the shot and his fingers brushed past my side.

"And why would we need to do that if you're in no danger of breaking?"

He eyed his chosen target rather than me, and I waited until he was about to play the shot before saying, "Because Hanna Mein killed someone in the Arabian room last night, and I think we need to check it out."

His shot didn't miss a solid ball, but it didn't send one into a pocket, either. I smiled.

He stood back and chalked his cue. "And how is what she did in the Arabian room related to what we're interested in achieving?"

I shifted slightly and lined up the ball sitting near the far corner pocket. "Because if someone did die, then the body is either still concealed in that room or there's another way in or out. No one saw anything resembling a body leaving the club."

I went for the shot, but a second before the cue tip hit the ball, his hand snaked down my back and butt, a caress so light and yet so heated that it practically singed.

Needless to say, I missed the ball.

He moved around to the other side of the table and began to line up the same ball I had. "That still doesn't explain the connection to our current case."

"Don't be obtuse."

He smiled and drew back the cue. I waited until the last possible moment, then shifted my arms so that my top rode up my breasts, and leaned over the table, giving him an eyeful.

He missed the ball even worse than I did.

He swore under his breath, then said, "So you think this hidden doorway could lead to one or both of our sorceresses?"

"They haven't been seen in the club all day."

"Maybe they're simply resting at home."

"Maybe. Except that this place is listed as their residential address as well and given there's not another floor, we're left with the possibility that either they're behind the locked doors, or there's other hidden areas." I quickly lined up the ball and made the hit before he could do anything to distract me. There was a satisfying clunk as it went into the pocket.

"You play dirty," he murmured.

"No dirtier than you, wolf," I returned. "Remember that."

His gaze met mine for several seconds, and it was hard to know what he was actually thinking. And while I could raid his mind, that just might leave me open for a mind raid attack from him. Which shouldn't be possible-given my shields and his lack of telepathy skills-but this wolf kept doing things he wasn't supposed to be able to. Which was a pain in the ass. I had a bad feeling that I really needed to know what was on his mind right now.

When he smiled, it only increased my sudden wariness. "Then I guess I'd better go book that room, hadn't I?"

"I think that's a good idea. We can always come back here if it proves a bust."

"Oh, I'm sure something will bust if we're not very careful." His gaze skated to my breasts and his desire surged, so strong I could almost taste it. "The rooms are monitored, so there isn't going to be much of a chance to look around without raising suspicions."

"Oh, I'm sure a clever wolf such as yourself can do something about the cameras without raising too many suspicions."

I glanced at my watch. A good fifteen minutes had passed since I'd been in the staff lounge, so the blonde's appointment in the Arabian room should be finished by now. I hoped no one else had booked it in the meantime.

"I'll see what I can do," Kye murmured.

"Well, you'd better hurry," I said, putting a little tartness in my voice. "I'm a much-in-demand dancer, you know, and someone else just might grab me."

"Then I'd have to beat them up, wouldn't I?"

"That would work," I agreed sagely. "You get thrown out, I get inside the room and investigate without your interference. Clever."

His smile was cool and calculating. "You're not finishing anything without me, wolf."

And one look into his eyes made me realize he wasn't just talking about the case. A shudder that was half anticipation, half fear, rolled through me.

He put down his cue. "I'll go book now, then see what I can do about the cameras."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Meet you there, then." He walked away without a backward glance.

I let out a breath, then smiled at the eager young man who rushed to pick up the abandoned cue and who couldn't have been any older than nineteen. I played out the game, giving him lots of little touches and glimpses of breasts and butt, leaving him flushed and smelling of desire. But he didn't say anything about a dance-either private or lap-so I walked over to the bar.

"Any bookings come through on my card?" I asked the heavy-set bartender.

He pressed a couple of keys on the computer, then nodded. "One for twelve in the Arabian room."

Twelve was a good hour away, so either he was taking time to cool down, or it was going to take him longer than I'd thought to take out the cameras.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, it's been a pretty slow night, although the patrons are drinking well."

Which was good for them, bad for the dancers. "Thanks."

He nodded and served another patron. I turned around, saw two guys playing at the table I'd evacuated, and headed over there to chat them up and keep an eye on the door.

The money men did go through with the hourly clearings, but I didn't get a glimpse of anything more than another corridor. I couldn't see a safe let alone private living accommodations.

But if these doors just led to vaults, then where was the sorceresses' den? It had to be here somewhere, if only because both women actually lived here. I couldn't imagine they'd want to be too far from their place of deep magic.

Just before midnight I headed down to change into my "Arabian" costume, which consisted of a barely there bodice with filmy sleeves, and a skirt piece that consisted of detachable scarves that were gradually stripped away to reveal a tiny jeweled G-string. Then I reached into my bag and grabbed the remaining bottles of holy water, taping them under my breasts. Big boobs, I thought with a grin, certainly had their uses, but hiding little bottles under them had to be one of the more unusual ones. I closed my locker and walked down to the hall to the private rooms.

The Arabian room was probably my favorite of all the fantasy rooms. Scrumptious golden curtains lined the four walls and framed the ceiling, so that it felt like you were standing in some sultan's luxurious tent. The furnishings enhanced this feeling, mixing rich wood tones with gold paint and deep red fabrics. The carpet was thick, lush, and patterned-just perfect to walk barefoot in-and the air had a light rose and cinnamon scent.

Kye was standing in the middle of the room when I walked in, and said telepathically, So what do we do now?

Obviously, he trusted the paper-thin walls as much as I trusted him.

I closed and locked the door. We pretend to discuss what you want while actually talking about why were here. How long have we got before the cameras go down?

Ten past twelve. Thought it was safer to seem "involved" when the lights go out.

I raised my eyebrows and said out loud, "How long did you take the room for?"

"A full hour." He gave me a wicked smile that would have blown my socks off had I been wearing any. "You'd better be worth it."

I smiled slowly, and flared my nostrils as his desire surged. Such a sweet, sweet scent. "Why don't you take a seat on the chaise lounge, and we'll find out."

"It looks rather skinny," he said, barely even glancing at it.

"But it's perfect for what we need." I added telepathically, "And if you don't sit soon, they may think something is wrong."

As he sat down, I muted the lights and turned up the music. With the erotic, exotic music filling the silence, I walked over and straddled the lounge-and him.

"Now I see why it's smaller." A smile teased his luscious mouth as he lay back on the lounge and watched me with hungry eyes.

"It would be awfully hard to be sexy when a normal chaise lounge is considerably wider," I agreed, and slowly began to move in time to the music, my dance as sensual and erotic as the music.

I was only straddling his legs at the moment, allowing him plenty of time to admire my body and movement. As the tempo of the music increased, so did mine. Little by little, I edged my way up his body toward his crotch.

"Can I ask a question?" he said after a while, his voice several tones huskier than normal.

So much for being unaffected. "You can ask anything you want. Whether I answer is another matter."

What those strange bulges under your bodice, or is that a trade secret?

I smiled. A woman has to keep her holy water somewhere close and safe, because you just never know when another hellhound is going to pop out at her.

He snorted softly. You really are a most intriguing woman, Riley Jenson. It's a shame you work for who you do.

And why is that? I shook loose one of the scarves and tossed it lightly at his face.

He caught it with a smile, his nostrils flaring as he drew in the scents on it. Because you and I would make a rather good team.

No, we wouldn't. Were totally different.

We're both killers, Riley, whether you like to admit it or not.

That may be true, but I kill to save others. You kill for profit.

You kill because you like the kill. Admit it.

I kill because I've learned the hard way that others suffer or die if I don't, I don't deny I enjoy the chase, but the kill? Never.

I don't believe you. You re too good at what you do for it not to be enjoyable.

I opened my mouth to refute his statement, but the words never came out because the room suddenly got colder.

Colder in an all too familiar way.

Goose bumps raced up my arms and I looked away from Kye, my gaze doing a sweep of the room. There was no smoke, no insubstantial wisps, hiding in any of the corners, and yet there was no mistaking the fierce chill that suddenly rode the air.

There was a soul here somewhere, and it wanted to speak.

"What the fuck?" Kye said, his head suddenly whipping toward the right corner.

There was no soul to be seen there, yet it did seem to be the main source of the chill.

But how the fuck was he sensing it?

I glanced at him sharply, briefly stopping the dance then forcing myself to keep going as I remembered the watching cameras. What do you feel?

I don't know. He frowned. It feels like death. Cold, cold death.

And he should know, having dished it out often enough.

How the fuck are you feeling that? I wanted to grab him and shake him-hard-and finally get some answers out of the damn man. He wasn't clairvoyant-hell, he even admitted to not being telepathic-and yet here he was, telepathic one day and clairvoyant the next. He might be listed as having no psychic talent, but something sure as hell was going on. And maybe, just maybe, I knew what it was. Have you got some weird ability to siphon the talents of others?

He glanced at me, and though his expression had suddenly gone blank, he gave a short, sharp nod. Tell me what I'm-we're-sensing.

Tell me the fuck about your talent, I snapped back. Just how far does it extend?

He didn't answer. I clenched, then unclenched my fist. Tell me, Kye, or I will call in the Directorate and get your ass thrown in jail And trust me, it wouldn't even blow this operation wide open, because the Directorate has guardians who can seize control of every man and woman in this place, regardless of whether they were wearing wires or not. And they wouldn't even remember it.

Hell, I could probably do it if I put my mind to it-Jack kept insisting I'd be one of the strongest telepaths he had if only I'd apply myself a little more.

Which is precisely why I didn't. I didn't want that sort of power. What I had was scary enough.

For the longest of moments, Kye didn't answer. When he finally did, it was flatly, grudgingly, done. I'm what you call a sipher. If I'm in the presence of another person with a psychic talent, that talent becomes mine for as long as I am with them.

So when you're with me, you're telepathic.

And I can shadow, because that is also a psychic talent-one that is very handy when stalling vampires.

Which is why he was such a skilled hunter of vampires. Most vampires wouldn't expect a werewolf to be able to shadow, and by the time they heard the rush of life and realized Kye was near, it was already too late.

And now you're sensing the soul?

Is that what it is?

Yes, I snapped, stripping off several scarves and tossing them across his face. And hang onto your hat, because its about to get a whole lot worse.

And with that, I reached out to the soul and said, Who are you?

The chill got fiercer, until it felt like fingers of ice were creeping into my soul. I didn't know why it always felt like these souls brought the chill of the underworld with them. Maybe it was because they were trapped between two worlds, neither here nor in heaven or hell-or wherever else souls went to.

Something stirred against the soft, golden light infusing the corner-a wisp of thicker air that held no shape and couldn't even be defined as smoke.

Billy. Billy Cardwell, it said, the insubstantial voice young and confused.

I continued dancing, only half concentrating on the music. Another scarf went. Kye caught it and tossed it to one side, his gaze heated and expression intent. He looked for the world like a man who was enjoying his dance, but I knew the only thing he was intent on was listening in on my conversation with the soul.

Do you know what happened, Billy?

The soul stirred softly, a wisp with no features and no body that gently rotated.

She went ballistic, he answered. She attacked me.

Do you know why?

For a moment there was no answer, but the energy continued to build in the air, giving the soul the strength to speak.

She kept screaming "the bitch. I'll get the bitch for this."

Had she meant the teenager who hadn't shown up? Or me? What time was this?

He didn't answer for several seconds, then said, I had the room booked for seven-thirty, so it was just after that.

So the rage-and Billy's subsequent murder-had definitely happened before she'd gone on to slaughter Jason Burke and his lover. Meaning her rage, or her need to tear, had not been assuaged with Billy's death. Or maybe we were simply dealing with a mind that wasn't exactly chummy with sanity. Is that all?

The energy in the air was still building, until the small hairs along the nape of my neck were standing on end. Only then did the words come again.

She said something about no one stopping her from making them all pay.

Thank you, Billy. I hesitated, then added, It's safe to move on now. Well take care of her for you.

Maybe that was what he was waiting to hear, because the energy abruptly fell away, and the soul disintegrated, fleeing to whatever region of afterlife it was bound for.

I took a deep, shuddering breath that did little to clear the sudden wash of weakness from my limbs. Maybe Cole was right. Maybe the energy these souls were using to talk wasn't coming from the air around us, but from me.

Fuck, that was unreal, Kye muttered, suddenly looking as washed out as I felt. And I hope I'm never with you when another one of those pops up.

Oh, I don't think that's going to be a problem, I snapped back, although I wasn't entirely sure whether I was annoyed more with him, or with myself for not having the gumption to call in the Directorate and get this man locked up. It was too late now, despite my earlier threat. We were in the end game and simply couldn't afford to stop right now.

I just had to hope that my reluctance to do something about the man didn't end up being the biggest mistake I'd ever made in my life.