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Authors: Kait Ballenger
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now?”
“Damon needs to keep his friggin’ mouth shut, that’s what I think.” David frowned. “Jace is the best werewolf hunter I know, and I’ve worked with quite a few over the years. If he hasn’t gotten this guy yet, there’s a reason.” He zipped his jacket closed as another gust of cold Canadian wind blew through the city. With weather like this, he needed to put in for a transfer to Honolulu. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
Shane shoved his hands in his pockets. “So you think it’s not a werewolf, then?”
“No, I trust J’s judgment. If he says it’s a werewolf, I believe him.” He would be an idiot not to, knowing Jace’s darkest secret.
Life would be so much easier if they could tell the Execution Underground management the main reason why Jace was so damn good at his job. But hell would be made of flowers and candy before Damon would let a half-breed be a part of his team.
David ran his fingers through his hair. “For the sake of these girls, I can’t close my mind to other possibilities.” He gestured to the body. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked at her one more time. Rigor had set in, and her already lifeless form had become all the more still. The blood had dried around her in a pool of black, and the remnants of the crimson on her skin crusted over. He shook his head. A normal human wasn’t capable of this kind of carnage.
“Do you think there’s any significance that all the victims are attractive women? Well...at least as far as we can tell, anyway.” Shane’s eyes darted around the alley.
David shrugged. “That’s a hard call.”
Shane met his gaze for a moment before his eyes fell to the ground again. “I think it has some significance.”
“How do you figure?” David asked.
“Look at the details.” Shane bent next to the body and pointed at the victim’s face, her heavily shadowed lids and red-tinted pout. “From the crime-scene photos, all the other victims wore heavy makeup like this.” He gestured to the hair hanging over the girl’s shoulder. “All of them had their hair done nicely, and from what’s left of their clothes, they weren’t dressed casually.” He stood and stepped back from the body.
“All right, then. What are you thinking?”
“My theory,” Shane said, “is that he isn’t blitz attacking them on the streets. He’s picking them up, like at a club or a bar. That would explain the age range, as well—college girls. A lot of them look around the age of my students at U of R.”
David nodded. “I’ll be damned, Shane. Where do you come up with this stuff?”
Shane shrugged. “I pay close attention to detail.”
David stared into the girl’s frozen face. She was so young, and if she didn’t look exactly like Allsún—large wide eyes veiled by thick lashes, heart-shaped face, head full of curls, and the look of a small pixie—she was close. But no girl would ever be as beautiful as Allsún, not in his eyes. The thought of her lying there like this poor girl sent his stomach reeling, and a sharp pang hit his chest.
But how would he know if this girl really looked like her? Other than quick glimpses, he hadn’t seen Allsún in years. He shook his head, trying to fight off the thoughts. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face in her neck, kiss her one more time, hold her and know that she was safe. He closed his eyes and buried the painful memories in the back of his mind, where they belonged. “Only one problem, though,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“This girl doesn’t look like she’s twenty-one yet. If she’s not drinking age, either your theory is wrong or she was trying to pass as older.”
Shane frowned. “I wish I had my phlebotomy kit. I’d love to run a test of her blood-alcohol content.”
“Too bad there’s no I.D.”
Shane bit his lower lip and rested his chin on his fist. Only a few seconds passed before his eyes lit up. “I have an idea,” he said.
David grinned.
“Damon needs to keep his friggin’ mouth shut, that’s what I think.” David frowned. “Jace is the best werewolf hunter I know, and I’ve worked with quite a few over the years. If he hasn’t gotten this guy yet, there’s a reason.” He zipped his jacket closed as another gust of cold Canadian wind blew through the city. With weather like this, he needed to put in for a transfer to Honolulu. “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here.”
Shane shoved his hands in his pockets. “So you think it’s not a werewolf, then?”
“No, I trust J’s judgment. If he says it’s a werewolf, I believe him.” He would be an idiot not to, knowing Jace’s darkest secret.
Life would be so much easier if they could tell the Execution Underground management the main reason why Jace was so damn good at his job. But hell would be made of flowers and candy before Damon would let a half-breed be a part of his team.
David ran his fingers through his hair. “For the sake of these girls, I can’t close my mind to other possibilities.” He gestured to the body. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked at her one more time. Rigor had set in, and her already lifeless form had become all the more still. The blood had dried around her in a pool of black, and the remnants of the crimson on her skin crusted over. He shook his head. A normal human wasn’t capable of this kind of carnage.
“Do you think there’s any significance that all the victims are attractive women? Well...at least as far as we can tell, anyway.” Shane’s eyes darted around the alley.
David shrugged. “That’s a hard call.”
Shane met his gaze for a moment before his eyes fell to the ground again. “I think it has some significance.”
“How do you figure?” David asked.
“Look at the details.” Shane bent next to the body and pointed at the victim’s face, her heavily shadowed lids and red-tinted pout. “From the crime-scene photos, all the other victims wore heavy makeup like this.” He gestured to the hair hanging over the girl’s shoulder. “All of them had their hair done nicely, and from what’s left of their clothes, they weren’t dressed casually.” He stood and stepped back from the body.
“All right, then. What are you thinking?”
“My theory,” Shane said, “is that he isn’t blitz attacking them on the streets. He’s picking them up, like at a club or a bar. That would explain the age range, as well—college girls. A lot of them look around the age of my students at U of R.”
David nodded. “I’ll be damned, Shane. Where do you come up with this stuff?”
Shane shrugged. “I pay close attention to detail.”
David stared into the girl’s frozen face. She was so young, and if she didn’t look exactly like Allsún—large wide eyes veiled by thick lashes, heart-shaped face, head full of curls, and the look of a small pixie—she was close. But no girl would ever be as beautiful as Allsún, not in his eyes. The thought of her lying there like this poor girl sent his stomach reeling, and a sharp pang hit his chest.
But how would he know if this girl really looked like her? Other than quick glimpses, he hadn’t seen Allsún in years. He shook his head, trying to fight off the thoughts. What he wouldn’t give to bury his face in her neck, kiss her one more time, hold her and know that she was safe. He closed his eyes and buried the painful memories in the back of his mind, where they belonged. “Only one problem, though,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“This girl doesn’t look like she’s twenty-one yet. If she’s not drinking age, either your theory is wrong or she was trying to pass as older.”
Shane frowned. “I wish I had my phlebotomy kit. I’d love to run a test of her blood-alcohol content.”
“Too bad there’s no I.D.”
Shane bit his lower lip and rested his chin on his fist. Only a few seconds passed before his eyes lit up. “I have an idea,” he said.
David grinned.
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