Blood of the Pride (6 page)

He stood between me and the door. All I had to do was get by him and I could get on with my life and my investigation.

His expression reminded me of a kit on his first hunt. I wasn’t getting away from him that easily.

“There’s no need for name calling.” Bran moved closer, still blocking my escape. “I’ve played nice. I’ve let you in to my apartment, into my life. I had nothing to do with her being murdered, so why the hate?”

“I don’t hate you.” The amount of emotion in my words shocked me. “I just have a job to do.”

“As do I.” There was a predatory spark in his eyes. “Which is why I’m working the rest of this case with you.”

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I shook my head. “I can’t. I work alone.”

“Not anymore.” He stuffed his hands back into his pockets, an almost childlike grin on his face. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to put in another story talking about your involvement in the case.”

The words caught in my throat. “That would compromise my work. I might never find the killer.”

“That’s right.” Bran nodded with a knowing look. “So, why don’t we start with me asking my doorman for a glance at the security tapes to see how that envelope got up here?”

Closing my eyes, I pinched the bridge of my nose, buying some time. “I don’t have partners.” I chose the words carefully, saying them slowly. “I work alone. I’ve always worked alone. However…” His scent washed over me in waves, sending my pulse into triple digits. I was breaking my own rules. The problem was, I liked it. “As long as you do nothing and write nothing until we finish this up, you can come along. And I want a full apology printed in the
Inquisitor
for publishing that picture.” My eyes flew open, glaring into his dark brown ones. “That’s as far as I’m willing to take negotiations. Take it or leave it.”

“Deal.” Bran reached behind him, grabbing the doorknob. “So let’s go talk to Dan.”

The doorman was actually ex-SAS, a retired officer who wanted to keep working despite receiving a decent pension. He motioned us to the back of the security station where the cameras and tapes were kept.

“They’re on a twenty-four hour cycle, sorry to say.” He shook his head, the few white hairs peeking out from under the pseudo-military cap. “So there won’t be anything if it happened more than a day ago.”

“You didn’t see anyone?” Bran frowned. “Not like you, Dan.”

The salt-and-pepper moustache bristled at the admonishment. “I didn’t miss anything. No one gets in here on my shift.” He wagged a finger at the ledger sitting atop the polished counter. “They all sign in and sign out. I don’t let anyone just wander in here.” He pulled the ledger around to face him before flipping through the pages. “You haven’t had any deliveries in weeks, Mr. Hanover, other than food services.”

“I believe you.” Dan broadcast respect and authority, reminding me of Jess. Men like this didn’t lie. “We were just wondering how this fellow walked in and out like that.”

Bran looked at me, a confused expression on his face. “How do you know it’s a guy? Why not a girl?”

Because I could tell by the scent. “I guess I just make the assumption ’cause it’s likely a guy did the killing.” I shrugged. “Consider it a generic term, then.”

He turned back to Dan. “No offense meant. We were just concerned.”

“As you should be.” The thick Scottish accent grew more and more noticeable with each syllable. “I’ll tell the other fellas to sharpen up their act or they’ll be outta here.” He jerked a thumb toward the street to make his point. “That’ll be enough of that around here.”

“Thanks.” Bran clapped a hand on the pseudo-military uniform shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”

The veteran let out a rumbling chuckle through the moustache. “For you, Mr. Hanover, anything.” His cool gray eyes searched my face. “Been awhile since you brought a lady friend home. Wish you’d do that more often. Be a pleasant sight for these old eyes.” Dan threw me a sly wink, invoking a smile in return.

“Reminds me of an old English sheepdog.” I flagged down a cab as we stood outside the condominium on King Street. “Sweet old man.”

“Sweet enough to disarm three punks last summer who were looking to do some break and enters.” Bran chuckled. “Underestimate him at your peril.”

The streets were now dark, the majority of commuters having fled the downtown core for the supposedly safer suburbs. I opened the back door of the cab and slid in across the broken vinyl seats, sticking a bit on the duct tape crisscrossing the well-used cushion.

Bran sat beside me “Where to now?”

“The crime scene.” I directed the cabbie to drop us off a block away from where Janey Winters’s body had been found, settling back for the short drive. “Best place to go right now.”

The bunched-up envelope dug into my side where it had been crammed into the small inner pocket of my leather jacket. I had the original photo, but it wasn’t going to undo the damage to Janey’s reputation or the danger to the group.

The cab came to a shuddering stop, the brakes screeching their annoyance. I passed the driver a twenty and got out of the car. Bran followed, scrambling to keep up with me.

The walk down the street to the alleyway was well lit and filled with pedestrians making their way to the small cafés and bars littering the area. A streetcar rumbled by, stopping at a cyber café to take on a handful of students swinging fat backpacks. This was hardly an area to grab a woman off the streets to drag her into an alleyway. She hadn’t been tackled and pulled into darkness. She’d walked in with her eyes wide open.

“Hey.” Brandon caught up to me, tugging on the back of my jacket. “What are you looking for? The cops probably went over this place with a fine-tooth comb.”

I pulled up short, seeing a flash of yellow tape fluttering in the wind. “They might have missed something.”

Something to do with the Felis.

The yellow crime tape had been stretched from one end of the entrance to the alley to the other, originally crisscrossing in a giant X but now ripped down and flying free. I stepped over the threshold into almost total darkness.

The alley was barely large enough for two people to walk down side by side. The brick walls were scratched and dented. A small trail of liquid trickled down past me into the street, stinking of urine, bleach and other things I couldn’t identify.

“How can you see anything?” A bright light flashed behind me, momentarily blinding me. Bran held up a small flashlight. “God, this place reeks.”

“Turn that off.” It wasn’t a request. As the light faded my eyes readjusted to the darkness. A scattered trail of rotting tomatoes and lettuce was spread across the concrete floor.

I knelt down, trying to recreate the scene in my mind.

Janey had ended up here, her feet pointed toward the street. I looked at the bricks on each side and the ground. It was a mess. Scratches, deep scratches. Felis nails had done those, not human. She had fought him to the end, trying to use the walls for leverage.

“How can you see anything?” Bran repeated and crouched down, resting his back against the wall.

I picked up Janey’s scent easily. There had been enough of it back at the Winters house that it was impossible not to notice. But there was another one there, one I didn’t know.

It wasn’t Dennis. I could put Jess’s theory to rest on that part. There was another Felis signature here and it was solid. It was strong, male and so thick it clogged the back of my throat as I tried to imbed it in my memory and my senses.

It was the same as on the photograph.

The Felis had not only killed Janey but taken the photograph and delivered it to Bran.

There was only one target for me to hunt.

It didn’t make me feel any better.

“What are you doing?” The reporter sighed, rubbing his leather duster back and forth against the wall. “Dang, my back’s itchy.”

Then I saw it.

It might have just been a smattering of small hairs sticking out of a crack high on the wall but it was a whopper of a clue.

Bran followed me as I stood up to pluck it from the dirty crack with my bare fingers.

“That’s not evidence, is it?” He glanced back toward the street as if he expected the police to descend on us at any minute.

“No.” I pulled a small baggie from my pocket and flicked the hairs in, sealing it tight. It was Felis and not the normal alley cat kind. Thinner, grainier and coarse to the touch.

“If that’s evidence it should have been collected by the cops.” He shook his head, moving closer to me. “You’re going to get us both arrested.”

“I didn’t think you were afraid of much.”

Bran’s hand landed on my shoulder. “I’m not afraid of much but I do dislike being hauled off to jail for messing with a murder case.”

“Well, you’re not. So there.” I pocketed the plastic bag. I pulled out the bent envelope and salvaged the photograph. “Come here, please.”

“Do this, come here. Feels like I’m your boy-toy slave.” He chuckled as he moved to stand beside me. “Now what?”

“I’m standing right over where the body was.” I handed him the photograph, pushing it into his hands. “Turn on your flashlight if you need to.”

The small white beam sent jagged shards of pain through my eyes before I could adjust. “Does your cell phone take pictures?”

“Do they make any that don’t?”

I decided not to tell him about my ancient pay-as-you-go model.

“May I have it, please?”

He handed it over and waited.

“Good.” I lifted the phone to my face and looked at the image. “This would be about where the photographer stood when he took the shot, right?”

The light bounced around the narrow alley before landing again at our feet. “More or less.”

I looked through the viewfinder and pushed the button. A quick flash illuminated the two of us. I handed the camera back. “How close is that to what we have?”

“Hardly.” He showed me the backlit image. “You wouldn’t have caught her feet and hands.”

“So I’m too short to have stood here and taken that picture, correct?”

Bran shone the light on the black and white photo. “I’d say so.” The beam bounced around the narrow alley before returning to our feet. “Unless he had his hands over his head this picture must have been taken by some guy about my height, at least.” The reporter flashed the beam at our feet, illuminating us in an eerie glow. “He wasn’t a short one, that’s for sure.” He smiled at me. “I’d guess you’re about five foot four, eh? I’m a bit taller than that.”

“Really.” I studied him for a minute. “Not by much.”

“Hey.” Bran spread his hands with a smile. “You know us men. Always exaggerating something.”

“Hmm.” I traded the photograph for the cell phone. “Well, that gives us some idea of the killer’s height.”

“One guy grabs her, snaps her neck. Other guy stops by and takes a photograph,” Bran mumbled. “Sends me the photograph with a question about ‘What is she?’ Not who she is but what she is.” He turned toward me. “Why would he be asking that?”

The illumination from the cell phone disappeared, leaving us in darkness. His heady scent threatened to overwhelm me, screwing up my thoughts and emotions. It was like a thick afghan blanket that started to curl up around and over me, cradling me in its warmth and rocking me to a deep, contented sleep.

“Just take a step away from me, please.” I closed my eyes again as they readjusted to the dark. My senses were reeling from the musk of a Felis male, two strong Felis women and a single, very strong human male who kept muddying the waters. One of us was dead and the other the killer.

It would seem that all I had to do now was race back to the farm and hand them the hair to have them check it against the database, but that wasn’t going to happen. We didn’t keep records like that. There were still some things in which the Pride were woefully behind, and creating a database of all Felis DNA was one of them, or had been when I’d left.

“Right. I’m out of here.” I stepped over the imaginary body and made my way out the narrow passage onto the street, pulling in a deep lungful of relatively clean air.

Something swept across my senses, a wave so overpowering it threatened to swamp me. I held my ground in the dizzying haze of food carts, diesel exhaust and body odor from the unwashed masses, turning around slowly to try and find the source. It was Felis, that much was sure, but too little to identify. Had Jess put a tail on me or was there another nearby?

“And…” Bran appeared behind me, letting out a cough. “Where to next?”

I shook off the feeling I was being watched. There were hundreds of Felis in Toronto who lived and worked every day just like I did. It wasn’t impossible for one of them to have just passed me. “Me? I’m going home to sleep. You, you’re heading home, as well.” I waved at him as I walked away. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

The streets were filling up with tourists getting out from the stage shows or the movies, each looking for a nice slice of Toronto to take back home with them. As I maneuvered through the crowd I could hear Bran swearing behind me, but his voice faded with time and distance.

I hopped the first streetcar that came my way, pushing my way through a posse of chattering teens to grab a seat near the back. I’d always been a fan of the Red Rocket and used it as much as possible. The cost of gas and downtown parking helped keep my driving down to a minimum, thank you very much. I glanced behind me as we lurched forward, grabbing the plastic seat next to me for support. Sure enough, I had lost Brandon in the crowd.

I huffed when we slid to another stop, the back doors opening to let off another gaggle of chattering kids. There was something reassuring about the streetcar’s rocking motion and it helped tune down my overwhelmed senses. It wasn’t too often that I was at a murder scene and never that of a fellow Felis. Usually I dealt with runaway teens and adultery accusations with a few background searches tossed in. It wasn’t glamorous but it paid the bills.

We rolled into Parkdale, one of the poorer Toronto neighborhoods. In a nearby darkened stairwell a man rocked back and forth, clutching his arms around his middle. Probably a heroin addict. It was a popular spot to hide in the shadows, shoot up and then go visiting the gods. My favorite reporter was nowhere in sight when I reached up to tap the bell cord, signaling my stop.

The 24/7 convenience store had a neon sign announcing FRE H COF E and DO UTS, both of which I sure didn’t need. A trio of teenagers hung out in front of the store smoking cigarettes someone else must have bought for them. One glared at me through long greasy locks screaming for a shampoo and a buzz cut. I glared back and he shuffled closer to the neon sign.

The walk down the street to the house was quiet and longer than it needed to be, with my thoughts racing all over the place. It wouldn’t be difficult to get hold of the Board and ask for information on all the members who were tall enough to meet my requirements—there weren’t a lot of Felis over six feet high—but it was going to be a bitch to quietly investigate the suspects to find out who killed Janey. I’d end up in more challenges than I could imagine or handle. You can’t just suggest that someone’s involved in the killing of another Felis and not be prepared to back that up with either hard evidence or your fists.

Unfortunately, part of life in the Pride included challenges. I was pretty sure that was how Jess had received that nasty scar—probably some kit figuring he’d move up in the ranks by taking on the Old Lady. No one actually died in the challenges, but there were some injuries that could last a lifetime. I wouldn’t be able to withstand a single challenge.

I walked up the small sidewalk to the house, noting that the rose bushes were blooming yet again. Unlike some of my brethren I had little to no skills when it came to gardening, but somehow these red beauties had kept on going.

The lock was firm under my fingers with the deadbolt sliding back with a resounding thud. It refastened with a swift twist of my wrist after I stepped inside, securing the front door again.

“Nice place. Although those roses could use a little pruning…”

I spun around and whipped the taser out of my pocket. It was just slightly illegal.

“Whoa!” Bran lifted his hands from where he had been standing just inside the doorway. An impish grin spread across his face. “Plenty of space here. I’m not crowding you at all.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” I glanced back at the deadbolt. “You broke into my house?”

He let his hands drop down to his sides. “No, not technically. See, I didn’t actually ‘break’ anything. One credit card and the door gave up her secrets willingly.” His hands shot back up as I took a step forward. “By the way, that white cat of yours? Not much of an attack cat. Welcomed me in and showed me where you kept her treats. She’s pretty easy to bribe, that one.” As if on cue Jazz appeared, winding her way around his legs with a loud, gravelly purr.

“Traitor,” I growled to the cat. “We’ll talk later.” I returned my attention to the grinning reporter. “How did you get here ahead of me?” I kept my finger on the trigger.

“I took a taxi. Cost a few bucks, but well worth it.” He waved a single finger toward the door. “I’m good with my fingers but not fast. Keep that in mind.”

“How did you know where I lived?” I didn’t drop my arm a fraction, keeping the weapon firmly aimed at his chest. It wouldn’t kill him but it’d be a heck of an ending to the night.

“I’m an investigative reporter. I investigated.” Bran dropped his hands. “Now if you’re finished with the temper tantrum, I thought we’d get some rest before striking out on your next part of the investigation.”

“What?” The Taser didn’t move. “What are you talking about?”

Bran let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I’m no rookie to this. You agree to let me in on the story, you dump me, you ‘forget’ to tell me what’s going on.” He shucked his duster and hung it on the ancient hat rack behind him in the corner. “You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you but there’s a story here and I’m not going away until I get the scoop on this woman’s killer.” He rubbed his hands together and beamed his best smile at me. “So, how about I make us up some decaf to go to bed with and we’ll continue this in the morning?” One edge of his mouth turned up in a sly smile.

A deep throbbing started behind my left eye. “We are not ‘going to bed.’ I am going to go upstairs to my bedroom and you are welcome to suffer down here with the cat and a lumpy couch.” I lowered the Taser. “I don’t have any coffee. You’re welcome to some of the herbal teas, for what that’s worth.”

“Excellent.” He strode through the living room and threw open my office door, continuing to the small kitchen in the back. “Peppermint would be great right about now, I think, unless you have some ginger spice, which is excellent for digestion.”

I pulled off my jacket, closing my eyes and trying to will the headache away. “Yes, yes it would be.” I hung it on the hook next to his jacket and leaned on the wall with one hand, wondering if I could hide a body as well as I did the rabbit’s foot. With a nasty glare at Jazz, I made my way upstairs.

The smell of peppermint drifted up the stairs while I changed out of my work clothes into a baggy sweatshirt and sweat pants, dark gray and filled with more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese.

I put the small baggie on my desk and booted up the computer. Thankfully the files Jess had given me were up here, safe and sound and away from a prying reporter’s eyes.

I picked up my land phone line, the old rotary I’d rescued from a garage sale years ago. My fingers dialed in the contact phone number Jess had given me.

“Yeah?” She answered on the first ring.

“I have something for you. For the Board.” I drew a deep breath. “Janey was definitely killed by one of the Felis, not a human. One of the family. I have a hair sample here that’s definitely not hers.”

Jess’s gruff voice rolled through the air. “And the cops don’t know?”

“Even if they found the hair it’s likely it’d be identified as feline and they’d drop it as a lead. No one’s looking for cat people. Well, no one who’s sane.” I picked up the bag and studied the contents. “I also know it’s a male, a tall male.” I pursed my lips before continuing. “And it wasn’t Dennis. I didn’t recognize the scent.”

“Ah.” There was no surprise in the voice, no disappointment. “And Mike?”

“Mike says that she wasn’t having an affair.” I left out the part where he almost Changed in public and challenged me. “From what I can gather she was too busy to have one. She was a good wife who got lured into the alleyway by one of the family for some reason and was killed.”

“Good work.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood at the compliment. She didn’t do compliments too often. “Keep us updated, please.”

“The killer was the one who took the photograph.”

A long minute of silence drummed through the phone line.

“Fuck,” Jess said. “One of us.”

“One of you,” I replied. “Is there any way you can get me a list of all Felis men that are close to six feet tall?”

“That’s all you got so far, that he’s tall?” Jess sighed. “I’ll take it up with the Board.”

“The clock is ticking and every minute means this guy could be getting further and further away from us. You’re not making this easy.”

“Never said it was going to be.” Her voice drizzled out across the line like slow honey. “Besides, that’s not going to give you much of a lead. Heck, the guy could have been wearing lifts. I’ll do the best I can, but you know how we operate.”

It was a battle I couldn’t win. “Thanks for the help. I’ll be in touch when I have more.”

I hung up the phone and put both hands to my temples, rubbing them as hard as I could. The headache was threatening to break into a major migraine and while I had meds to take the edge off, I wasn’t about to dull my senses even for a few hours. I couldn’t risk it, not if I was going to have to go up against one of my own.

The aroma of peppermint grew stronger, the richness helping alleviate the pain just a bit. I dropped my hands to my desktop and took deep breaths, closing my eyes and focusing on the pleasant odor.

The pressure returned to my temples, a light circular rubbing, almost tickling. Except my hands were still on the desk and I wasn’t blessed with extra digits.

My eyes shot open to focus on the steaming hot mug of peppermint tea sitting in front of me and the man standing behind me, his fingers stroking and pressing in all the right places.

“Bad headache, eh? I can believe it.” Bran leaned forward, peering at the display on my office phone. “So, who you been calling?”

I resisted the temptation to fling him over my shoulder and smash the desk with his lifeless body. His touch was just so good on my skin right now, massaging away my annoyance in seconds. “That is my client and none of your business. That whole confidentiality thing? You know?”

“Oh, sure—throw that in my face.” The pressure ebbed, shifting down to my neck and shoulders where he pressed down, rotating his fingers around on the fabric. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

I drew in a deep breath, tasting the peppermint on my tongue. Mixed in there was the heady scent of Bran, leaning in and whispering the words in my ear. This was not good. More so because I had subconsciously ignored him coming up the stairs, marking him as friend instead of foe.

“Thanks for the tea.” I stumbled over the words, pushing the pain back into the dark recesses of my mind. “However, I think it’d be best for us both if you went downstairs and took up residence on my couch. Sorry there’s no television down there. There’s a radio if you’re desperate for information.” A shiver ran up my spine, tickling the nerves. It’d been a long time since I’d had some nice touching.

“No problem. I’ve got one of those newfangled contraption cell phones that gets everything. The internet, MP3 player, the whole shebang.” He stopped kneading my shoulders, now just resting his hands on my gray shirt. “You know, we’d work better together if you didn’t see me as the enemy.”

I held back a sigh, wanting his hands back on my bare skin. He’d triggered an itch I wanted him to scratch. If he only knew how much he had already worked his way into my system…

“Until the end of this case you are, by definition, the enemy.” I exhaled the words, hating every one.

“Your call.” The heat left my shoulders, sending another shiver across my skin. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” The stairs creaked with his departure. “Just don’t try to sneak out on me. I don’t really sleep these days. I catnap.”

I couldn’t help smiling, wrapping my hands around the mug and taking a deep pepperminty breath. My eyes flashed for a second to the Winters file, safe on my desk away from Bran’s prying eyes. Last thing I needed was some outsider trying to make sense of a Pride file.

“This case is going to kill me,” I murmured to the empty room. I picked up the mug and shuffled to the double bed, tossing back the thick, light-blue comforter with one hand and dumping the two pillow shams onto the floor. The mug went onto the nightstand as I pulled the sheet back. I reached for the remote and turned on the television, setting the volume low and finding a local news channel to drone in the background.

I sipped the tea and pondered my next move. There was no way I could investigate every man who met the height requirement, even if they sent me a list right away. I could petition the Board to have a Grand Meeting, bring everyone together and let me just look across the crowd to see the tallest men, but it was only called for extreme measures.

Such as declaring one of their own outcast.

I wondered if a Felis killing another Felis ranked as high.

I frowned, pushing the memories out of reach. One hand put the near-empty mug on the night table, the other turned the light off. I snuggled down under the thin sheet and tried not to think too hard.

The alleys were dark, dank and smelled like fresh urine. I ran down one narrow corridor, paused at an intersection and then turned on my heel to charge down the other, feeling the hot breath of a hunter on the back of my neck. He growled once, letting me know he wasn’t in a rush to finish the hunt. A claw reached out and ripped the shirt from my right arm while I charged into another alley, searching for a way out. The moon was full in the sky over us and filled the brick walls with misty shadows and distorted shapes.

He smelled like garbage, old jeans, sweaty underwear and moldy cheese dipped in turpentine. I coughed, resisting the temptation to drop to my knees and throw up. If I did he would be on me and that wouldn’t be a good thing.

I skidded around another corner and lost my balance, slamming hard into the wall and falling to the ground. My foot went numb as I struggled to my feet and tried to limp away. The roar grew closer, the scent stronger in my lungs as he approached. All I could do was flatten myself against the wall and hope my first strike would disable him, maybe even kill him.

He leaped out of the shadows at me and smashed me into the wall with a near-perfect hockey body check. My shoulder popped out of its socket, leaving my arm numb as I collapsed. The hunter was on me before I could catch my breath and straddled me with little effort. I stared up into the feline face, trying to recognize it even while I strained to force myself to Change.