Deadly Desire

Chapter Six

"She can't find him, right?" I said, a little alarmed by the panic in his voice. Mike was a kid who had seemed totally in control. I wouldn't have expected this sort of reaction out of him.

"But she can. She did something to me. I don't know…" He paused. "She threw this dust at me, and suddenly I couldn't stop blabbing. Anything she asked, I answered. It was unreal." He blew out a breath. "I thought she was harmless. She was in a damn wheelchair, after all."

A wheelchair. So Cole was right about the reasons the bird was resting on its belly. While shapeshifting could heal most injuries, there were a few that could never be repaired. Missing limbs didn't grow back, and broken spines were never fixed. I had no idea why, especially when most other broken bones could be repaired once set. Maybe it had something to do with nerve damage.

"Look, this woman is a sorcerer, so she's obviously used some sort of magic on you. How much head start has she got?"

"Maybe five minutes. She said she'd kill everyone if I moved or tried to warn Joe, but once I got the chance, I rang you."

"And did you ring Joe?"

"No. I mean, I can't. He doesn't have a phone with him when he's working."

"I thought you said he didn't work nights."

"Well, he doesn't normally. But he hasn't had a good run this week and needs the cash."

I bit down on the instinct to ask what he needed the cash for, simply because it was a stupid question. Even street kids needed cash for some of the necessities in life. Although in Joe's case I didn't think one of those necessities was drugs. Not yet, anyway. "Where is he?"

"He's working the hospitals. I'm not sure which one he's doing tonight, but he did the Freemasons last night, so it'll probably be the Epworth tonight."

I frowned. "What do you mean, he's working the hospitals?"

"He's a pickpocket. Hospitals are great places to work, because no one expects it."

That's because most people expected a certain level of respect in hospitals. But then, a street kid living just above the starvation line isn't exactly going to be respectful of anything but his own skin.

"I'll see what I can do, but you'll owe me one."

"Deal."

I hung up, then threw the phone down on the passenger seat and started the car. It didn't take that long to get to the hospital, but with the extended visiting hours the hospital had, parking was a bitch. I didn't even bother looking, just stopped in a no-parking zone and slapped the Directorate official vehicle sticker onto the dash. I grabbed my gun from under the seat, then climbed out.

The wind was free of any familiar scents. I jogged toward the hospital, keeping alert and using my psychic senses to feel for anything that seemed remotely out of place.

People milled around the main doors, but neither Joe nor a strange woman wearing a blonde wig were present. I hesitated, wondering if I should move up to the parking lot and investigate there, or stick to the hospital. After a moment, I moved toward the dark glass doors. If I were a thief, I'd rather go to someplace where a lone person hanging around wasn't going to be that noticeable-and that wasn't in a parking lot.

The doors swished open, and the scents of antiseptic, sickness, sorrow, and death washed over me. When combined with the overwhelming odor of humanity, the urge to gag became pressing. I hated hospitals at the best of times, and walking into one willingly had to rate right up there with walking into a cemetery. For a start, both places were filled with far too many ghosts.

I paused just to the left of the entrance, studying the foyer and wondering where the hell was the best place to find a thief.

The aroma of fried food snagged my attention, and I headed that way. Lots of people tended to get careless in cafeterias. Some flung their purses over the side of the chairs, others shoved their wallets casually in a side pocket while carrying trays of food. Either one was easy pickings for an experienced thief.

And Joe was obviously that.

Most of the tables in the cafeteria were empty, with only a few near the serving counter currently occupied. The kitchen itself seemed to be packing up, the clang of metal and rush of steam as hot trays were cleaned mingling easily with the murmur of conversation.

I walked farther into the room, just in case there was a section I wasn't seeing, and caught a trace of Joe's scent. My heart rate quickened, the wolf within eager for the chase. I followed my nose, weaving my way through the tables, moving through the cafeteria and out into a wide hall. There were more people here, but most of them were moving toward the exit. Joe's scent was fainter, getting lost in the myriad of other smells.

I walked through the doors and back out onto the street. Joe's scent headed off to the left. I followed, hoping like hell he hadn't jumped onto a tram or a bus; if he had, then I'd lost him.

His scent got stronger rather than weaker, but twined within it was another. Only it wasn't a feminine scent, but rather one that was all too familiar.

Decaying flesh.

The sorcerer might have risked talking to Mike, but she was canny enough to realize she'd never keep up with a fleet-footed street kid. Not when she was in a wheelchair, anyway. And in her crow form, she'd hardly be a threat.

But why send a zombie when she had the hellhounds at her disposal?

And what had Joe seen that warranted such an action in the first place?

The scent swung left, into a side street. I was running now, my footsteps light, mingling with the noise of the surrounding night. A mix of warehouses and housing loomed. Maybe Joe was hoping to lose his pursuer in the maze that was the Richmond landscape.

The trail swung left again, heading back up toward the hospital, then sharpened abruptly. I slowed and dug my laser out from my pocket. The building was weather worn and rusted, its windows cracked and roofline sagging. Obviously not a warehouse currently in use-and the scents of age and mold coming from it seemed to confirm that.

I pushed the metal door open with my fingertips. Wind rushed past me, scattering the rubbish lining the floor. I stepped inside and flicked to infrared. Two blurs of heat became visible down at the far end of the factory, the brighter of the two half hidden by something large and black, the other creeping ever so slowly toward it. Joe obviously didn't realize the zombie knew exactly where he was.

I broke into a run, moving as quickly as the maze of corridors and the rubbish would allow. Ahead, the dark red blur that was the zombie had drawn closer to Joe. I was running out of time.

A door stood between me and them. I hit it shoulder first and the thing gave way, tearing away from the hinges before clattering to the floor.

The brighter blur that was Joe jumped. The zombie didn't react. It had its orders and its prey in sight, and nothing was going to stop it achieve its goal.

I raised the laser, the weapon humming at the pressure of my finger. At that moment, a crow squawked and the zombie instantly threw itself forward. As Joe yelped and scrambled backward, I fired the laser. The bright beam gave the darkness a red edge as it cut through the metal sides of the bin the teenager was hiding behind and sliced the zombie in half. As its body flopped to the floor in separate pieces, I raised the laser and fired a shot toward the ceiling and the shifter I couldn't see or feel.

The bright beam cut through wood and metal roofing, sending dust and rust flying. A second later, wings rustled and air stirred.

The bitch was taking off.

I shoved the laser into my back pocket and reached down inside myself for my seagull shape. "Joe," I shouted, as the magic swept through across my torso and down my limbs. "Wait here. I'll be back."

Then I was flying through the hole in the rusted roof and out into the starry sky. Luckily, a seagull's eyesight was keener than a human's, even at night, and I spotted my quarry within half a turn.

With a flick of my wings, I flew after her. The night was bright, filled with lights and bugs that teased the hungers of the gull even as the rest of me shuddered at the thought. I concentrated on the big black bird ahead, flying faster than I'd ever flown in my life and rapidly gaining ground. The flying lessons were paying off, even if I'd once despaired of ever enjoying the freedom of the skies.

I flexed my feet and wished I had something a little more deadly than webbing. Something like an eagle's talons would have been handy right now, because short of dropping down on top of her, I wasn't sure how I was going to force the sorceress to ground.

I was only several yards behind her when she suddenly looked around and spotted me. How she actually knew I was chasing her I have no idea-shifters could sense other shifters, but that shouldn't instantly tell her I was pursuing her.

With a harsh squawk, she twisted her wings and dove downward, the air almost screaming with the speed of her descent. I tipped my wings and followed, seeing sand and surf and a crowded foreshore below us. St. Kilda, I thought, and wondered if she was going to try and lose me among the myriad of backstreets and trees.

She didn't sweep toward the streets as I'd half expected, but rather toward the beach. A second later I realized why. A flock of seagulls erupted from the sand, stirred to life by the swooping crow. It was all I could do to check my speed and not hit any of them, and as blinds went, it was pretty damn effective. By the time I flew free of the tangle, she was gone.

I swore under my breath, the sound coming out as little more than a harsh squawk, then headed back to the warehouse. I landed outside the main door, and adjusted my torn shirt and bra before grabbing my phone from my back pocket and heading inside.

"Sal," I said when she answered. "I need a safe house for a street kid. Nothing fancy, because he may well end up stripping the joint of anything valuable."

"Then why the hell are we bothering to protect him?"

"That's what I like about you, Sal. You're such a sweetheart." Although she probably would have been, if it had been a dog I'd been wanting to protect.

She snorted softly. "And you are a bitch. I'll send an address to your onboard. You going to be there to meet the team?"

"Ta. And no." I glanced at my watch. I was already ten minutes late for my meal with Ben and I still had to get the kid to the safe house. "And I'll need a magi team at my current location. I had to laser a zombie to stop him getting the kid, but the witch may be able to revive him with magic."

"Half a zombie isn't much good to anyone."

"When there's magic involved, I'm not taking a chance."

She grunted. "I'll send Marg and her team."

"Thanks, Sal." I pocketed my phone and walked on through the warehouse. Joe was still hiding in the shadows of the large bin that seemed to be leaking an oily liquid everywhere. The zombie lay near his feet, lifeless but maybe not entirely dead. We wouldn't know for sure until the magi got here to take care of him.

Joe rose as I approached, and his relief was evident.

"You got her?" he asked, wiping oil-stained hands across his already grubby jeans.

"No, she escaped." I stopped and crossed my arms. "You want to tell me why she was chasing you?"

"I don't know." His gaze suddenly wouldn't meet mine as he brushed sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead.

"Fine," I said, and turned on my heels and walked away.

"Hey," he said, voice confused. "Where you going?"

"If you can't be bothered telling me the truth, I can't be bothered helping you."

"But she'll come after me again!"

"That's your problem, not mine."

"Wait!"

I didn't. There was a pause, then footsteps as he ran after me. "Okay, okay," he said. "I think I might have called her."

I stopped and turned to look at him. Fear and defiance mingled in his eyes. "You called her?"

"Yeah. The first woman gave Kaz a business card, just in case something happened and she wasn't able to do the job."

"And you stole the card?"

He looked indignant, but the quick flick of guilt in his eyes suggested I wasn't far off the mark. It seemed the old adage of honor among thieves didn't always apply around street kids. "No. Or at least, only once she'd done the job. Thought it might be handy to keep if the job turned out to be real and Kaz made a lot of money."

Which she probably did, but she didn't live long enough to spend it. "So, after our little chat, you decided to ring the woman and tell her what, exactly?"

Again defiance sparked in his eyes. "That I'd seen her, like, and I wanted money or I'd go to the cops."

"And did Mike know about this phone call?"

He snorted. "No. He would have asked for his cut, wouldn't he?"

"He saved your life by calling me, Joe. Next time, take that into consideration when you're thinking about cheating him."

"It ain't cheating-"

"It is when he's keeping you all fed and safe, isn't it?"

"I guess so," he muttered.

I smiled at his sullen expression. "So what did the woman say?"

"She agreed, like, and said she'd meet me at the cricket ground, near Vale street, at eleven. But that thing came after me before then."

And why would he not have expected that? Honestly, anyone intent on a little blackmail ought to be prepared for the fact that the recipient of said blackmail wasn't going to be happy about it, and just might be inclined to react. But then, I guess Joe was still a kid and somewhat green to the foibles of others, even if he had lived on the streets and learned his lessons the hard way.

"You said the first woman-does that mean the woman you talked to on the phone wasn't the same woman?"

He frowned. "I don't think it was, but that sort of thing is easy to fake, isn't it?"

It was, but I very much suspected it meant we had two different women involved in these murders. Joe obviously thought the same, given his choice of words.

"How did she find you?"

"I don't know. I was scouting possible marks and heard footsteps behind me. I look around and saw that thing coming toward me."

"How did you know it was after you?"

"Well, there was only me and the marks in the cafe, and when I ran, it followed. So I kept running."

So how did the zombie find him? The sorceress couldn't have gotten into the hospital in crow form, and even if she had been there somewhere in human form, how had she pinned his position so accurately? The only possible answer was magic. "Where's the card the first woman gave Kaz?"

"Here." He reached down into his pocket and withdrew a business card.

The minute my fingers touched it, I felt the magic. It wasn't strong-more a faint residue that made my fingertips tingle than anything dark and nasty. Perhaps the magic was fading.

The card itself was black, with a single staked heart sitting in the middle of it. On the back was a phone number, and a set of times. Those times suggested-to me, at least-that it wasn't even a manned phone, but one that was simply checked remotely. Whoever these woman were, they were playing a cautious game.

I wondered if the other murdered teenagers had held similar cards, although it would have been easy enough for the sorceress to direct her creature to destroy it. Maybe this one was still in one piece only because Joe had stolen it.

"She was probably using this to track you," I said, waving the card lightly. "Which means we can't take it with us. Come on."

I walked back to the zombie and dropped the card next to the top half of his body, then left the building with Joe in tow.

Once we were on the road, I started the onboard computer and got the address for the safe house.

"Why we going there?" Joe said, as I switched over to the nav-computer.

"We need to keep you safe. The sorceress will keep coming after you until she kills you."

"But she can't find me now that I no longer have the card."

"We can't know that. And she seems to have found Kaz all right without the card." I frowned at the thought. Maybe the magic on the card somehow transferred to whoever was touching it, which meant both Joe and I would have to "disinfect" ourselves from its trace.

"I guess." His face suddenly brightened. "Will this place have a TV and a fridge and a bath?"

"Yes, and we want all three to be there after we've caught this bitch and you're able to leave."

"I wouldn't steal-"

"Yeah," I said blandly. "Tell it to someone who is going to believe you."

He grinned and settled back in the seat, watching the road and probably contemplating his next thieving exploit. I got him to the safe house, and was relieved to see that Sal had lived up to her usual efficient ways and had gotten one of the night-shift guys. I handed over my charge, rang the Directorate to tell them my suspicions about the business card, then headed off to my dinner with Ben.

Of course, I was way late, so I grabbed a nice bottle of wine from a nearby shop then headed up to his office.

Nonpareil-the stripper business Ben managed-was situated on the first floor on a nondescript brick building in the middle of old North Melbourne. It was surrounded by factories that looked to be carrying the dirt of centuries on their facades, and the air was thick with the scent of oil, metal, and humans.

Not the nicest of places to visit, but I knew from experience that the inside more than made up for any outside ugliness.

I pushed open the glass door and stepped through. The air was warm and rich with the scent of vanilla and wolf, the latter stronger than the former. I couldn't help a happy sigh. There was nothing nicer than the musky scent of a man-whether or not the moon was on the rise. I climbed the stairs, one hand on the shiny gold railing and my feet sinking into plush red carpets.

The lobby was all gold drapery and overstuffed, lush-looking furniture. A large mahogany desk dominated the far end of the room. Behind it was a wolf whose skin gleamed a dark amber, and who aptly went by the stage name of Goldenrod. Of course, everyone working here had stage names. Ben's was Shadow.

He leaned back in his chair, and waved a finger at the bottle I was carrying. "And you think that is going to make up for Shadow missing his dinner?"

I grinned and undid a couple of buttons on my shirt, so that the swell of my breasts and the mauve edges of my bra were visible. "How about that?"

"Much better," he said, voice low and throaty, sending a ripple of delight through me. He pressed a button on his desk, opening the door to his right. "He's in his office."

"Thanks, Golden."

"Definitely my pleasure," he said, then laughed as I worked the hips just a little bit more. "If you ever get tired of the old man, you know where to come and play next."

My grin grew, but I didn't answer as I walked through the coffee room and into the hallway beyond. Ben looked up as I entered his office, then leaned back in his chair and gave me an insolent grin. "Well, well, look what the dog dragged in."

I sat on the corner of his desk and tried to ignore all the beautiful black skin his tank top exposed. "I bought wine."

"What type?"

"Wolf Blass." It was his favorite, not mine. I was more a Brown Brothers gal.

"I guess I'd better forgive you, then." He rose, giving me a fuller view of his long, strong body. My nostrils flared as I sucked in the delicious scent of him, and my ever-dizzy hormones sizzled.

"I had to rescue a street kid from a zombie," I said, concentrating on opening the bottle rather than on the delicious-looking man walking back from the liquor cabinet. That way lay trouble, and I had enough of that on my plate already-no matter what my hormones might think.

Ben raised a dark eyebrow as he held out the glasses. "Street kids and zombies? The Directorate has branched out."

I snorted softly. "You have no idea." I poured the wine, then put the bottle on the table and accepted one of the glasses. "Here's to a quick capture of zombie masters and vampire killers."

"Now what the hell kind of toast is that?" he said, his grin flashing brightly. "Here's to pretty redheads. May they find their way to my bed sooner rather than later."

I laughed and touched my glass to his. "Your bed is the last place I need to be right now."

"Hey, I'm versatile. I can do desks, walls, floors, whatever."

"Heard that about you." I took a sip of the tart wine, then said, "Tell me about Man Hard."

His sigh was dramatic, but the effect was spoiled by the twinkle in his bright eyes. "There's no such place as Man Hard. There is, however, a Meinhardt's. Different pronunciation, emphasis on the front half of the word."

"If they wanted it pronounced properly, they should have gone for an easier name."

"True." He walked around the desk and sat back down. "It's only been around for about six months, but it's doing reasonable business, from what I hear."

"So who runs it?"

"Are you sure I can't seduce you?"

"Positive. But I will treat you to a very nice dinner later in the week to make up for my no-show tonight."

"Excellent." The twinkle in his bright eyes became one of anticipation. Meaning the seduction attempts would continue full force during that dinner. And while I didn't have any immediate intention of giving into the desire that swirled between us, part of me wondered how wise it was to keep throwing temptation in my path like this. He took a sip of wine, then added, "A guy named Brad Herrott manages the place on a day-to-day basis."

"But he's not the owner?"

"No. Two women apparently own the place, but I can't tell you a whole lot about them."

"Why not? Surely there has to be some scuttlebutt about them. Everyone gossips in the sex industry, don't they?"

He laughed. "Not as much as people think. It's an industry that does need to keep its secrets."

"So you've never seen the owners?"

"No."

"What about the club itself?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"Is it just a strip club, or do they also do sex?"

"They don't go as far as sex," he said, a smile twitching his lush lips. "The question is, do you?"

"I do sex. I just won't do it with you."

"Yet," he added, smile growing.

I raised my glass in acknowledgment, then said, "If you do hear anything unusual about the club, you'll give me a call?"

"Information like that has its price, you know."

I downed the remainder of my wine, then gave him a cheeky grin. "Anything but sex."

His expression reminded me very much of a cat that had just found the cream. "Oh, there's a whole lot we can do that doesn't involve actual sex, you know."

"Oh, I do know." And part of me wanted to dive right in there and test some of those things out. I stood up instead. "But it won't make any difference to my resolve."

"We'll see about that."

We would. And right now, I wasn't placing any bets on who just might win this little battle. "I'll contact you later in the week about our dinner date."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

His expression just about smoked my insides. I turned around and got the hell out of there while I still had my pants on.

Once back in the car, I picked up the phone and rang Quinn. With the moon almost full and lust burning through my body, it wouldn't have been wise to go anywhere else but straight into the arms of my vampire. It was simply too much of a risk to attempt any further investigations tonight. I'd already experienced blood lust once in my life, and even though I couldn't entirely remember everything that had happened, the scars on Quinn's arms were reminder enough that it wasn't a place I wanted to go again.

"Hey, sexy," he said, his mellow tones sending heat flashing through my body. "How do you feel about a midnight picnic? "

"As long as there's sex and coffee involved, you can count me in."

"Then meet me at the zoo in twenty minutes."

"The zoo is closed."

"There's no such thing as closed when you have lots of money. Oh, and be naked."

I laughed, the sound thick with anticipation. "Only if you are, vampire."

"That's hardly practical when I have to pay our entrance fee."

"So why make me be naked?"

"Because I intend to cover your nakedness with chocolate before we go in, and then I intend to lick every single inch of it off you again."

The thought had me fanning myself. "Chocolate is a food. Food and vamps don't mix."

"This is a special chocolate designed for vampires."

Meaning I probably wouldn't want to know the actual ingredients. "I'll be there in eighteen minutes."

"Don't be late."

I wasn't.

And the picnic was everything my wolf soul could have wanted, and then some.

"Well," Kade said, leaning back in his chair and giving me a knowing grin as I walked into the room the following morning. "Here's a wolf who looks very satisfied with life."

"Completely satisfied." I held up a cup and raised an eyebrow in question.

"What, we're drinking machine muck rather than the divine liquid from Beans?"

"Beans was packed to the rafters with Directorate personal wanting the decent stuff. We'll have to time our coffee runs better." I poured two mugs then headed over to his desk.

"I won't be a happy little horse if I have to go back to drinking muck."

"There's nothing little about you, my friend. I know this for a fact."

He grinned. "So you do."

I handed him a mug. He took a sip, then grimaced. "Definitely going to have to get the timing right."

"What's been happening here?"

He snorted. "The cross-checking of the emo list continues. We can't find backgrounds on four of them."

I frowned. "What do you mean, you can't find their backgrounds?"

"Just that. No birth certificates, no death certificates, no rebirth notices. They don't exist, according to the paperwork."

"Well, paperwork has been known to be wrong." I walked over to my desk and sat down. "Where's Iktar?"

"Got the day off. Some family gathering." Kade shrugged. "How's the murder investigations going?"

"That's the question I was about to ask," Jack said as he walked into the room. He was holding one of Beans's thick-ribbed cups in one hand, and the rich scent of mocha coffee permeated the room, making my coffee smell even fouler.

I ignored his question and asked, "Have the magi handed in their report from the warehouse yet?"

He propped on the edge of Iktar's desk and crossed his legs. He looked casual-if you ignored the tension riding his shoulders or the anger lurking in his green eyes. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"

"Because the woman behind the zombies tried to kill a friend of our second zombie victim last night-and I suspect she's been tracking them all through a magic-infused business card. I left one with the dead zombie last night for Marg to pick up."

"Did the card feel similar to the magic you sensed at the vampire murders?"

I hesitated, then shook my head. "Although it has a dark edge to it, it doesn't have the same traits as the one at the vamp scenes."

"Magic doesn't have personal traits, like scents do."

"Maybe not to someone without a keen nose, but trust me, there's differences."

"So we have two rogue practitioners on the loose." He took another sip of coffee, then added, "You don't think there's a connection?"

"Between the vamp killings and the teenage girls? Hell, I don't know." It didn't seem logical at this point, but stranger things had certainly happened. I leaned back in my chair. "But I do think there could be connections between these two women, and that would mean the cases might be, as well. What are the chances of two dark sorcerers being active at the same time in the same city?"

"It has happened, but it isn't a common event. Sorcerers, unlike witches, tend to have their territories, and they don't like rivals intruding."

"Then maybe we need to source out Melbourne's witches, and see what they know about the new dark powers on the block."

"Our magi are already onto that. So far, there's been nothing."

"There has to be something. I mean, aren't there ley lines crisscrossing the city, from which magi draw their strength? Surely they should feel if someone new was dabbling."

"This is more than dabbling," Jack said with a smile. "But remember, most sorcerers draw from blood or personal magic. They do not use the earth energy, as most witches do."

"Witches don't only draw from the earth, though."

"No, many use white magic, which also draws on personal strength. It depends on the strength of spell required. Earth magic is a wild thing, and not every witch has the capability to control it."

"Do any of our witches?" I asked, curious.

He took a sip of his coffee, then nodded. "I'll roust our magi for their reports and see if they confirm what you suspect about the business card. What do you plan to do next?"

"I'm going out to talk to the parents of the other victims, just to see if any of them know what sort of work their kids had been involved in before their death."

He nodded. "Did Shore's girlfriend provide any useful information?"

"She said he was a regular visitor to strip joints, and liked bringing the dancers home. The last one he took home was from Meinhardt's."

"Both Armel and Garrison were regulars there, too." He glanced across at Kade. "You feel like a little investigative trip tonight?"

Kade grinned. "Boss, anything is better than sitting behind this goddamn desk chasing names that don't exist."

"Just remember you're there to get information about our victims, not just ogle the scenery."

"I'm versatile. I can do both."

Jack harrumphed-a sound of disbelief if ever I'd heard one-then glanced at me. "Anything else?"

I shook my head. "Ben said Meinhardt's opened about six months ago, but he couldn't tell me who the owners are. I'm going to do a search through business registrations to get names, then do a background check."

"Let me know if you find anything," he said, then uncrossed his legs and walked out.

I went through the eye scan and signed into my computer, then pulled up the records for the last two zombie victims. I jotted down their addresses and the names of their parents, then I retreated to the search function and typed in Meinhardt's. As the cursor began to blink, I glanced at Kade, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"And what is Sable going to think about you going off to some strip joint while she stays home and minds the baby?"

"It's work, so she has no say. Besides, minding babies is a woman's business."

I snorted. "I bet you don't say that within earshot of her."

"I enjoy sex too much to ever say that within earshot of her, trust me on that. It doesn't counter the truth, though."

"You are such a sexiest at times."

"Totally. It is the way of the world."

"Maybe in the horse-shifter world, but not in the real one."

He waved a hand. "There may be a few enlightened souls in this world of ours, but trust me, deep down most men believe they are the superior sex."

"Believing and fact are two totally different things."

He grinned again. "I'm aware of that. And you will note that I've never mentioned my views to Sable."

"Wise move." Because I very much suspected Sable was one mare who packed a hell of a punch.

The results of my search flicked up on the screen. Meinhardt's was a surprisingly popular business name, with a good half dozen listings coming up. I clicked what appeared to be the latest link, and discovered the two women who ran Meinhardt were Hanna Mein and Jessica Hardt. Two woman running it, and two murderers running lose. Coincidence? It was always possible, but I just didn't think so. I clicked the next link down. The same women, same type of club, different state. As were the remainder. It seemed the two women had a habit of setting up a business and selling it nine months later.

I hunted down their license photos, sent them to the printer, and noticed with interest that one of the licenses was for a handicapped driver. Maybe it was coincidence, but those coincidences were beginning to add up. I started a search to see if either of the women had a police or Directorate record in any of the states they'd run their businesses in. I also ran a separate search for unsolved vamp murders in the time periods they'd owned their businesses. It was a long shot, but occasionally long shots did come in.

With the searches on the way, I walked over to the printer to get the pictures. Both women had dark hair, with one having green eyes and the other an odd brown that could almost be yellow. They could be described as plain looking, but given that these photos were only head shots, that didn't mean much. Hell, they could both have buxom, hourglass figures for all I knew.

What did strike me was the fact that one of them-Hanna Mein-bore a striking resemblance to the picture Joe had drawn of the blonde who'd recruited Kaz.

Which didn't mean she was guilty, but it was yet another pointer that the investigation was probably headed in the right direction.

I shoved the pictures into my pocket and headed out. The parents of the third murdered woman weren't home, so I went to the address of the first victim. And wondered if Kye would turn up, given these people were supposedly his friends. Or was that just another lie he'd spun?

Their home was a nondescript red-brick house that was surrounded by other nondescript red-brick houses. Fading roses littered the front garden and pencil pines lined the side boundaries, providing the illusion of privacy.

As I walked up the cracked concrete path to the front door, the blinds twitched aside and a freckled face briefly peeked out. It definitely wasn't the face of a parent-more like a younger brother.

I stopped on the porch and pressed the doorbell. The buzzer rang harshly and footsteps echoed, coming from the room where the blinds had twitched.

"What?" a surly voice said, without the door being opened.

"Riley Jenson, from the Directorate," I said. "I need to talk to your parents."

"They ain't here."

"Where are they, then?"

"Why do you want to know?"

I bit down on my impatience, trying to remember he was probably little more than thirteen or fourteen and alone in the house. Technically, he was doing the right thing-although the standard security screen door and the old wooden door behind it wouldn't have stopped many nonhumans if they really wanted to get into the house.

"I'm investigating your sister's death, and I need to ask them some questions."

"What type of questions?"

Okay, so this kid was seriously annoying, whether or not he was doing the right thing. "I'd really prefer not to be talking to two doors. Open the wooden door."

"You going to show me your ID?"

"I will." I grabbed my ID from my pocket and slapped it against the metal mesh. "You going to tell me your name?"

There was a pause, then the main door creaked open. The kid was thin and gangly, with a thatch of carrot-red hair and blue eyes to go with the freckles I'd briefly glimpsed earlier.

"It's Josh." His eyes widened as he studied the ID. "You're a guardian? I thought only vampires were guardians."

"I'm part of a new daytime squad." I shoved the badge away. "What time will your parents be home?"

He shrugged. "Mom in an hour or so, Dad after six. They won't be able to tell you much, though."

"And why is that?"

"Because Amy and them never talked. She was supposed to be moving out next week, in fact."

"Who was she moving out with?"

"Some dumb guy she lurved."

I raised my eyebrows. "You don't believe in love?"

"Not when all she talked about was banging the guy."

I grinned. "Did she talk about anything else other than sex with her hot guy?"

"Not really." He shrugged as he said it, but his gaze flicked away from mine and heat crept into his cheeks.

"It's really important to tell me if you do know anything," I said softly, "It might just be the difference between catching her killer and not."

He didn't say anything for several seconds, nor would he meet my gaze. "I promised Amy I wouldn't tell anyone."

"I think this is one promise Amy would want you to break. You don't want her killer going after someone else, do you?"

Which wasn't fair, but it had the desired effect.

"I guess not," he mumbled, then sniffed. "She was offered some big-paying job. It's how she could afford to move out of home."

What were the odds that the job was offered by a woman wearing an ill-fitting blond wig? "What kind of job?"

He hesitated. "She wasn't a crim or anything. She just needed the money."

"I understand that, Josh, but I need to know what she did."

"A lady paid her eight grand to bang some vampire."

I blinked. That certainly wasn't an answer I'd been expecting. "And did she get paid money often to bang people?"

"Hell, no. She wasn't a whore. This was a onetime job, like."

"I don't suppose you know the name of the vampire she was supposed to be with?" Maybe if we could find him, we might stand a chance of understanding what the hell was going on. And why these kids were being killed.

He shrugged. "It was strange. Arkell? Or something like that?"

Oh my God… "Armel?" I said, and almost held my breath for his answer.

"Yeah, that's it."

Armel. Who liked redheads. Fucking hell, we had a connection. But there was no way on earth any of the murdered teenagers had the magical resources needed to overpower old vampires, so why were they being paid so much money to seduce them? It had to be a part of the plot, but I wasn't yet seeing the connection. "And that's all she had to do? Sleep with him and leave?"

He nodded. "Easy money."

"Do you know how Amy was supposed to meet this vampire?"

"Some club." He shrugged.

Meinhardt's, I thought, remembering what Anna had said about Martin Shore's last conquest. Only Amy wouldn't have been old enough to get into a strip joint like that. So somewhere along the line, club security and/or its owners were involved in these cases. "And she did what she was supposed to?"

"Yeah. No problems."

Except that she never got to spend her earnings, because her life had been ripped apart by the living dead. "So where did Amy meet the woman who gave her the job?"

"At the social security office. Amy was waiting to hand in her form so she could get rent assistance, and the woman just started talking to her." He shrugged. "It went from there, I suppose."

"Did she ever mention what the woman looked like?"

"No." He hesitated. "She did get one of the woman's business cards, though. It was black, with a really cool picture of a staked heart on it."

The same card that Joe had given me. Surprise, surprise. "What happened to it?"

"Amy probably kept it in her purse. Don't know where that is."

Meaning the zombie or the sorcerer had probably removed it after the kill, because otherwise Cole would have mentioned it. "There's nothing else you can remember that might help with our investigation?"

"Don't think so." He hesitated. "Are you going to catch whoever did this?"

"We certainly plan to."

"Good." He hesitated again. "Kick him for me. The bastard deserves that. And make sure some sappy lawyer doesn't get him off easy."

"Oh, trust me, the person behind these murders won't get off easy." Mainly because he or she would be dead. I hesitated then asked, "Tell me, do you know anyone by the name of Kye Murphy?"

"Dad's friend? Sure. Why? He in trouble?"

So the bastard was telling the truth. Amazing. "No, I was just checking. Thanks for your help, Josh."

He nodded and slammed the door shut. The windows twitched as I walked away, and a freckled face watched me climb into the car.

The next stop should have been the safe house so I could show Joe the picture of the two women and check whether one was his blonde, but with the business cards all but confirmed as trackers, that wasn't the wisest move. The magic might have faded, but that didn't mean the witch couldn't still track us through it. I hoped the magi had come up with something to counter it-and had already given it to Joe.

I traveled back to the Directorate then headed for my desk and checked out the searches. Both of them were still ongoing.

I blew out a breath in frustration, then glanced up as Jack came into the room.

He didn't look happy. "You'd better get over to the safe house straight away."

Alarm ran through me and I stood up quickly. "What's happened?"

"Another zombie has been raised, and the safe house holding your street kid has been attacked."