Night Shift

Chapter Thirteen

"A New York hellbreed, connected to the rogue?" Harp chewed at her lower lip gently for a moment. "How far can you trust the information, Jill?"

Sunlight fell in through the skylights, but the warehouse was cool, air conditioning and a small beneficial sorcery adding up to ward off the heat outside. I stretched, my back crackling as I reached for the sky. Then I leaned forward, my legs out to either side, almost touching the floor. It wasn't a perfect split but close enough, and I needed the stretch. The stack of files stood just beyond my fingertips as I exhaled, letting my neck relax. I spoke into the floor, shutting my eyes. "He doesn't give me information unless it's true. That's the agreement. If he lies to me, we renegotiate and I get the upper hand. He doesn't want that." My toes pointed, I shuddered, relaxing into the stretch again. "I'm beginning to think there's more to this story, though."

"How so?" Dominic lay on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes. He didn't look good, dark circles under his eyes and his face hollowed out. It was probably Harp getting hit that did it.

Weres are serious about their mates. They have no conception of civil or religious marriage; they simply pick their mates and settle down. I've never seen a Were mating that isn't happy. Like so many other things, they do it in a way far more humane and relaxed than humans have ever learned.

"I looked through your files. There's a pattern. First there's the rogue kill, then there are these other bodies—but the other bodies only show up with someone disturbing the Were. We have a rogue, killing for meat in an irregular cycle, and someone else killing whenever someone disturbs him." I exhaled again, then inhaled, bringing myself up and bending over my right knee, the leather of my pants creaking slightly against the floor. My forehead touched my knee. "The bodies we just found were a regular rogue kill. Four bodies, muscle meat gone, faces missing—but the faces weren't Were work, those were hellbreed claws—and bones chewed. The cops were mostly rogue kills—except the rookie. He's an exception, not only because he's still alive. A rogue won't tear off the top of a car to get at prey; it'll take opportune bits of meat."

"Humans," Harp corrected softly. Dishes clinked in the kitchen—Dustcircle was washing up, or cooking something.

Nice of him.

"Humans," I agreed. "The point is, something peeled open that car and slashed at him to kill him quick and messy. It's a hellbreed kill."

Dominic perked up. "The hellbreed's covering a rogue's tracks?"

"Or trying to." I straightened, my eyes still closed, and bent over my left leg. My Dies Irae T-shirt rode up, a finger of coolness along my lower back, my breasts pressed against my thigh. A knife-hilt jabbed into my ribs again. "And this hellbreed—Cenci—is desperate enough to come out during the day and tangle with a hunter and two Weres."

"Suicidal," Dominic muttered.

I pushed myself up and brought my bare soles together, then leaned down, feeling the stretch in the insides of my thighs. "Not necessarily. Who expects a hellbreed to attack during the day? If indeed she intended to attack, which I'm not convinced of."

That got Dominic's attention. "You're right. She was hanging out up there like she wanted to stay hidden."

I shrugged. "She almost made chow mein out of Harp, and if I'd been down with the bodies and tangled up trying to keep the humans out of her way she'd have gotten away scot-free, maybe with both of you dead."

Dustcircle came around the breakfast bar, wiping his hands on a towel. "Tell me this one again, where Harp gets bitch-smacked by a hellgirl." He was trying for levity, but it didn't go well with his deadly set face. "Because, you know, that never gets old."

Harper stuck her tongue out at him, a thrumming growl rattling the air. But it was a playful sound, and she went back to looking at the stack of files with a line between her eyebrows. That thoughtful look, when she seemed distracted, was when she was most dangerous.

"Shut up." Dominic sighed, sinking into the couch. "I'd have been mincemeat too, if it wasn't for Jill. Christ."

"Glad to be of service. Besides, I'd hate to break in a new set of Feebs." I sighed, leaned forward again, pressing my knees down. The stretch filled my hamstrings with prickles and I had to remind myself to breathe out and relax my lower back. "So, boys and girl, we have our work cut out for us."

"Well, we've been chasing this asshole across the goddamn country, I'm ready for a change." Harp yawned. "I'm hungry." She actually sounded plaintive.

"Working on it," Dustcircle replied, easily. "So what is the plan, then?"

I was hoping you'd ask. The warehouse echoed and rang around us, its midday song of a building ticking and expanding under the sun's weight. "I put in a call to the hunters up in New York and ask them to dig, tell 'em it's urgent. Set them to finding out exactly why this Cenci left and what her story is, and why a high-up hellbreed out there is so all-fired set on getting her back—because something about that smells, there's a piece we're missing. You three go down in the barrio and rouse every Were you can, get them spreading through the city to flush the rogue out."

"Wait a second—" Harp tried to dive in. If I was a Were I might have let her have the floor.

But I'm not, so I rode right over the top of her. "Meanwhile, I start burning hellbreed holes out here until someone comes forward. She can't hide in my city without someone knowing about it, and I'm going to find out." I straightened and stretched my legs out, sighing. I was already beginning to feel more like myself. I didn't have to see Perry for another month.

Small favors, but I'd take it.

"Saul goes with you." Harp said it like it meant something. "It's a rogue Were, and you're not going to handle one of those on your own. We leave the hellbreed to you, you leave the rogue to Saul."

"I don't need a babysitter." I rose to my feet in a smooth wave, charms tinkling and shifting in my hair. "And where I'm going tonight, Weres aren't welcome."

"So he'll wait outside in the car like a good little boy." Harp folded her arms and glared at me. "Don't make me sit on you, Jill. This is serious."

"You think I don't know that? You got eviscerated, I got clipped, and we lost thirty-six hours because of it. Someone else could be dead right now, or dying. Or several someones." My voice rose a little, I took a deep breath and contained myself. "I might have to move quickly tonight, Harp. He won't be able to—"

The country Were in question decided to pipe up. "I can keep up," Dustcircle said dryly. "Believe me, I don't want to tangle with any hellbreed. I'll leave them strictly to you, and stay out of your way. Now if you'll excuse me, I think the pot roast needs attending."

Pot roast? Just what did they put in my fridge? I folded my arms and glared back at Harp. But she had a point. Hellbreed I could handle—hopefully. A berserker Were gone over the edge and looking for meat I might not be able to take without losing some serious blood. If I ran across them both together a little backup might be nice.

I really wanted to leave the country boy at home. But part of being a hunter is being allied with Weres, and the idiot had apologized. I'd be rude and stupid if I kept this up, and while I don't mind being the first, the second can get you killed.

"Fine." I gave in. "You're right. Backup's far from the worst idea when it comes to something like this. But still, it bothers me. Why would a hellbreed be cleaning up after a rogue? It just doesn't make sense."

"Unless she's not cleaning up, she's somehow directing him." Harp leaned back on her hands, looking relieved. Dominic let out another gusty sigh and began to purr, the throaty rumble shaking dust out of the couch. He was relaxing.

I restrained the urge to pat his belly like a cat's, touched a knife-hilt instead. "If she was directing him, she'd have picked better targets. Killing cops in a hunter's town is just asking for trouble, and none of the victims have any nightside ties at all."

"There is that." Dominic sighed.

The phone shrilled, and I let out a curse, striding into my bedroom to pick it up. "Lo." I stared at the fall of sunshine through a skylight, my abdominal muscles tightening as if expecting a punch. I was still sore as hell. The scar's channeling of etheric energy meant I healed a lot faster then even the ordinary hunter, but I never felt quite right while my body was knitting itself back together. The food helped, but the sheer animal part of the body doesn't bounce back so easily from a wound that could have been mortal.

Each time you get close to death the body gets a little nervous.

"Jill." It was Monty, again, and my back went cold and prickling with gooseflesh. But he had good news—sort of—for once. "Saddle up. The rookie's awake. You want to talk to him?"