But the blood scent was getting stronger the closer we got to the closed door at the far end of the hall, and tension slithered through my body.
If that scent was anything to go by, whatever awaited in the room beyond was bad. Real bad.
I licked my lips, then carefully pushed the door open with the tip of my shoe. The scene that greeted me froze me on the spot.
Because the room beyond was a kitchen that was a smaller version of my mum's.
And just like my mum, James Blake had been totally and absolutely ripped apart.
Chapter 9
"Oh my god," Jak whispered, horror in his voice. "That can't possibly be—"
I flung out an arm to stop him from moving into the room. The gesture was automatic. My gaze had locked on the gore and blood scattered around the room, and a sick sense of déjà vu crawled across my skin. Though this murder—and my mom's—were similar to the MO of the Rakshasa, this wasn't her work. She fed off her victims. Whoever was responsible for this simply tore their victims apart. Somehow I managed to say, "It can and it is. We need to call the Directorate."
He glanced at me sharply. "Why? This is gruesome, no doubt about it, but there's no indication it's the work of a non-human. I mean, not even a vampire could tear someone apart this completely. Some kind of power tool must have been used."
"It wasn't. Trust me." I took a deep, shuddering breath and closed my eyes. Bad mistake, because the minute I did, I saw Mum bits, Mum's head… Bile rose and I swallowed heavily, then grabbed Jak's hand and dragged him out of there.
"What the fuck?" he said, trying to wrench himself free. "Risa, there's one hell of a story in there—"
"And it's not one you'll ever be allowed to print," I said. I stopped in the garden and sucked in several deep breaths. It didn't do a lot to ease the churning in my stomach, but it at least cleared the scent of blood from my lungs.
"Why not?"
"Because I've seen this before."
He studied me for a moment, frowning. "Where?"