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to stand as Mayor Diaz-White entered the living room of her home. The tan suit she’d worn at the crime scene was gone, replaced by jeans and a tank top with a loose V-neck sweater over it. Her pretty face was scrubbed clean, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, but her expression seemed calm. As calm as could be, given the circumstances.

    She extended her hand. “Thank you for coming.” She exchanged a look with Havoc, who stood near the exit. “I understand it wasn’t your choice.”

    “I intended to meet with you tomorrow morning as we’d discussed, but your goon decided otherwise. I don’t like being strong-armed.”

    “I understand and I apologize. It’s not Mr. Havoc’s fault. After we spoke, I realized I couldn’t wait until morning to have things explained. It’s not in my nature to be so impatient, but this is my daughter. My city. So I sent him after you.” She sat on the couch across from him, a marble and bronze coffee table separating them. “I know you’re upset, but I also know his arrival saved your life.”

    Creek tilted his head toward the wolf shifter. “Can we talk in private?”

    “Of course. John, thank you for your work tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

    Havoc grunted. “You want to be alone with this guy?” He shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait in the front room and escort him out when you’re through.”

    “If you wish.” One hand strayed behind her back to tug at her sweater. “But I’ll be fine.”

    Was she carrying? It wouldn’t surprise Creek if the mayor of this screwed-up city kept a gun or five. He sat back down. His clothes, borrowed from Havoc—jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops—fit okay, but since getting out of the pen, wearing anything he hadn’t personally bought grated on him. “He didn’t save my life. I was hurt, but I would have been fine.”

    Her sculpted brows arched as her gaze scanned his upper body. “Havoc said your shoulder was torn open. Some kind of animal attack.” Her hands clenched, then relaxed. “I’ve been receiving reports of some sightings in the city lately. Large cats. A wolf or two. Even… well, it’s ridiculous, but someone saw an enormous flying lizard-bird thing a few weeks ago.”

    Argent needed to be more careful. “Most likely it was a dragon. Just like the strange bats you’ve been seeing around city hall aren’t bats. They’re the gargoyles on the building come to life, but I suspect you already know that.”

    She laughed until she noticed he hadn’t joined her. The smile vanished. “It’s not possible.”

    That was enough for now. No point rattling the hive past the point of recovery. “What would you like to know about your daughter?”

    “Why did she have those gold tattoos all over her? Do you know?”

    “Yes.” But where to begin? “They are an ancient way of purifying the blood.”

    The mayor’s face screwed up. “Purifying the blood? Like some kind of ritual? Do you think whoever killed her did that to her?”

    “No, she chose to have those marks placed on her body. They’re called
signum
.”

    “Why would she do that?” She tucked her legs beneath her. “As a teen, Julia thought tattoos were ugly.” Her gaze snagged on his well-inked forearms before shifting back to his face.

    He leaned into the couch, spreading his arms over the back so she could get a better look at his
ugly
tats. The move sent a ripple of pain through his still-healing shoulder. “Comarré do what they do because they have chosen to serve a particular master.” Telling this woman her daughter had decided to become a blood whore pimped out by the local vampire kingpin wasn’t going to be easy. Well, the telling might be easy, but her reaction wasn’t going to be.

    “This involves a cult, doesn’t it?
Dios mio
, what did she get herself into?” The mayor crossed herself and whispered a few prayerful words in Spanish.

    Creek tipped his head back and sighed.