He fought against the chains, his face a mask of torment. “Go!” he snarled through his emerging fangs.
Thalia shook her head and ran from the room. She slammed the door behind her and pressed the hidden button he had showed her earlier. A soft hum followed by a loud click, announced that the latch was now reinforced by several steel rods spread evenly throughout the plane of the door. Insurance should Gideon, in his madness, snap the heavy chains.
A tear eluded her control and ran down her cheek. She dashed it away with an impatient hand. What good was she? She couldn’t even offer her blood to spare him hours of agony as he awaited the setting of the sun.
Thalia took a slow, deep breath. She might not be able to feed Gideon, but she was still the Champion and a damn good private investigator. In her rush to get him home, it was possible she had missed some vital clue that could lead her to the killer. Detective Cole hadn’t mentioned another murder. Strange that no one had found the bodies yet, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to examine the crime scene.
A thump sounded inside Gideon’s bedroom, followed by a moan that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. His chains rattled. She closed her eyes, summoning her strength. She hated to leave him, but there was nothing more she could do.
“Spirit,” she called. “Come on. We’re going out.”
One of the bodies was missing.
Thalia squatted over the remaining body in the alley. She’d covered her hair with a cap and wore a cheap plastic coverall, intended for house painters, over her clothes. Latex gloves shielded her hands.
There had been two bodies here last night. Where had the other one gone?
It was Saturday and traffic was light, but she masked her presence with a small spell. Anyone looking her way would see a person, but her shape and size would be blurry and indistinct. She would have preferred to use an invisibility spell, but she would need every bit of energy she could get when it came time to release Gideon.
Spirit sat a distance away, careful not to contaminate the crime scene with his own unique hairs.
The victim lay face down in her nest of garbage. Thalia flipped her over. “Oh, my God.” It was Kimmy Simpson, her throat slashed. The wound was deep, gaped open like some gory double mouth.
She had known this might happen, but confronted with the reality, her hands trembled.
The rogue had killed a witch.
“Oh, Kimmy. Why didn’t you stay with Ashley and Maureen?”
Tears pricked her eyelids. Their young lives would never be the same. No one would ever call them the three musketeers again.
She took a deep breath, forcing her mind back to business and stood. “Do you smell anything?”
Spirit’s chocolate eyes narrowed and his ears flattened, his coat bright chestnut orange in the brilliant sunlight. He scented the hot summer air, turning his head from left to right, nostrils flaring.
“Blood. Not Gideon’s, not the woman’s.” He paused. “And something else. Decay.”
Thalia nodded, remembering the overpowering stench that had accompanied the rogue the previous night. Nothing like Gideon’s intoxicating scent, it must be a by-product of the Claiming.
“Can you follow it?”
“Of course.” Spirit’s voice was curt, his lithe body stiff, as if he were insulted that she even had to ask. He trotted toward the corner and stopped, looking back over his shoulder. “Coming?” he said arrogantly, and she could see a glimpse of the mage he’d once been. She snuffed the beginnings of a smile and followed.
They walked for several miles. Thalia began to get winded. A drop of perspiration ran down the back of her neck, and she resisted the impulse to stop and remove her coveralls.
Their journey took them into a neighborhood riddled with abandoned houses. Yards filled with junk guarded structures on the verge of collapse. They seemed to lean toward one another as if in search of support. Children played in the street and scuffled on the bare dirt of the verge, kicking up clouds of dust with their sneakers. The owners of the few occupied houses watched silently as Thalia and Spirit went past, the spell still in effect.
The late evening sun was low now, battling through the gaps between houses and reflecting off broken windows. Red, just like Gideon’s eyes had been when she’d last seen him.
Gideon.
She shuddered as she remembered the moans and pleas coming from behind the locked door as she’d gathered