Damn, so I had. Mom and Riley had met for coffee and cake every week for as long as I could remember, and it was a tradition Riley and I were determined to continue.
While I did have a good excuse—I'd still been in the process of recovering from the fights with both my sword and the Rakshasa, the spirit who'd answered the call of ghosts desperate for revenge at one of the blood whore clubs run by the high vampire council—I couldn't exactly tell Riley that because she didn't know about my connection with the vampire council. If she ever did find out about it, she'd hit the roof, not to mention shove me somewhere safe while she confronted Hunter and her cronies. And as strong as Riley, Quinn, and Rhoan were, I had a suspicion it would take more than the three of them to outmaneuver Hunter.
"You need to ring her," Rhoan continued. "She's worried. We're both worried."
"Then you need to not tell her so much about what's happening."
He snorted again. "Yeah, like that's going to work. You know she can smell trouble a mile away." He paused. "Okay, I have your location and will be there in twenty. Don't disturb any evidence."
"I won't. See you soon."
I shoved the phone back into my pocket, my gaze on Dorothy's body. Why on earth would anyone go to so much trouble to destroy someone who was, it seemed, totally harmless? It made no sense, and part of me—a small, insane part—wanted to unravel the puzzle.
"Let your uncle find whoever is responsible for this," Azriel said. "It is not something we should get involved in."
"No, it isn't." I couldn't help but look again at the woman's face, though, and there was an unpleasant suspicion in my heart that this was far from over. "We've enough on our plate as it is."
Including, I thought, with a glance at my watch, a date with a locker at Southern Cross Station in just over an hour.
I rubbed my arms, then scanned the immediate area. Rhoan might have warned me not to disturb any evidence, but that didn't mean I couldn't look. Besides, I needed to do something while I waited for him.
Water and trash lay everywhere, and the air was ripe with rotting rubbish and mold. The vaguest aroma of blood laced the thicker, more unpleasant scents in the room, but there was little else. If the stranger—or anyone else, for that matter—had been here, he had no distinct smell. Which went with his lack of a face, I guess.
"Someone was here," Azriel commented. "The air still resonates with energy."
I glanced at him. His blue eyes held echoes of the anger that burned within me. "Can you track it?"
He shook his head. "They used magic to leave."