Feral Passion (6 page)

“Where was it?”

“A couple blocks from here, there is a honey
factory. Kind of run down, but there’s a little business going on
still.”

“Anything you can remember from the scene?”
he asked her as he jotted down what she had said.

She hummed for a second, obviously thinking.
“I can remember. . .” Mary paused. “The smell.”

The way she said that had him looking up at
her. He felt bad that he was getting such a negative response from
her, but the questions had to be answered. The scent in the room
was nothing but sweetness, all coming from her. No hint of a lie,
at all. He smiled inwardly.

“I’ll get back to that in a second. Was there
any evidence left over?”

“A rope. Can of gasoline. No prints, no
hairs, nothing other than that. . .stench.”

Raff had read numerous reports about the
attacks, all of them revolving around what she was saying now. Why
did it seem as if she were giving him more, though? The MO of the
killer was gasoline, so whatever this guy had been doing was going
to be stinky.

“What did it smell like?” His pen scratched
against the pad, the only sound besides the soft sound of her
breathing.

“Skin. Being cooked. Horrible. . .God,
I can remember walking into the building after Romero had called
me. I hadn’t even seen the inside but the smell. . . I had been
able to smell it
right
after I
got out of the car.”

Raff’s eyes were trained on her. Her
eyes were closed, head bowed, fingers fidgeting with her coat. Mary
didn’t seem like the type to get over emotional, nor unrealistic.
She seemed smart, capable, and strong—just as a
pacchetto
leader should be.

For some reason, Raffaele felt a sort of
pride that she would allow him to see her like this—even if there
were men on the other side of the mirror, she was facing away from
them.

“Was there anything out of the ordinary?”

She snorted, the sound angry. “Besides the
fact that a young woman, barely out of college, was burned to death
in a honey factory?”

He gave her a look. “No sarcasm, please.
Could you tell if it was Acutos or Archaeos, maybe even human?”

Her eyes flickered away. “The woman was
Archaeos. The person who did it was. . . The reports say he was
Archaeos.” There was an audible sound of her swallowing, maybe in
nervousness or just of a dry throat he had no clue.

“You don’t believe that, though, do you?”

He could almost feel the earth moving beneath
his feet when she shook her head slowly, face slowly paling. “I
think it was something. . . More. And it wants us.”

“What do you mean by that, Ms. Waters?”
Raffaele was getting chills, the hair on the back of his neck
standing up.

“It wants to kill us.

Chapter 9

Mary could feel her chest closing up as she
said the last words, the words that she had never expressed to
anyone before. At first, it had started out as an inkling, but
after the second murder with a man and a woman dead, it had slowly
started growing inside her head, in her gut.

As she looked up into Jaques’s eyes, she
couldn’t tell if he thought she was being irrational or if he was
willing to take her opinion. The whole meeting, he had not let out
one ounce of emotion, besides the occasional look at her lips.

When she had first walked in, she had felt
the gaze on her. The shock she had felt at seeing the man who had
burned her arm was. . .unbelievable. Jaques had said that Jared was
his uncle, so this must have been the guy that Jared had kicked out
her for.

His voice was deep and rich, soft yet.
. .strong. It made her tail curl just thinking about what
else
he could be telling her, saying
to her. . .whispering to her. The way he asked her questions, the
way they sounded, made it seem as if he were seducing her. Not
asking her serious questions, not asking her about murders and
death.

She was helpless to answer.

“Where was the second murder?” Jaques reached
under to the drawers of the table. He pulled out a plane manila
folder, and opened it, what looked like a million papers flashing
as he flipped through them. “It says here that you didn’t go to the
site of the murder.”

Mary shook her head. “No, I did. I didn’t go
to the third one, I was out of town with my mother when I got the
news about it.”

Jaques growled, or made a sound that
resembled it. “They need to fix that, then. There was gasoline at
this one, too, right?” His eyes were buried in the file, eyes
flicking over the pages and then to her.

“Yeah, gasoline and fishing string.”

His head came up. “Fishing string?”

Mary nodded quietly.

“The smell was the same?” he asked absently,
going back to the file and then his notepad.

“No. It was worse. And it smelled like. .
.flowers.”

Light blue eyes latched onto hers, although
his head was still bent. “It smelt like flowers.”

She shrugged. “It was burnt still, but it was
like someone sprayed perfume. But. . .not. Like, they were burning
the flowers. But burnt flowers don’t smell like that, do they,” she
mused.

“They don’t,” he murmured, sitting up and
sighing.

He looked at his watch, and she could
feel her face start to fall. She didn’t know this man, barely knew
his name, didn’t know where he came from, what he did, or who he
was
at all
. Yet, she didn’t
want him to leave. Mary liked listening to him talk, liked talking
to him and watching his movements.

“I think that we can continue this some other
time. I have a date that I have to get to tonight, and I can’t miss
it.”

Mary felt her heart fail for a second, then
shrugged it off. “Okay.”

She stood up and walked away from him,
trying to ignore how much she utterly
hated
that he had a date, that he had someone to
go to at all.

“Ms. Waters. . .”

The tone of his voice had her stopped,
turning to meet his light blue eyes, eyes that were surprisingly
tender.

He walked close enough that he could whisper
without others picking it up on the camera, and the dark scent that
came off of him almost had her swooning.

Mary started to bring her hands up, flustered
at his new proximity. “Yes, Mr. Jaques?”

“I cannot wait till our next meeting.” She
looked up in time to see the bright flash of a smile as he
grinned.

Trying to stop her racing heart, she smiled
back awkwardly before ducking her head and practically running out
of the room. Having a brief conversation with Romero and signing
some papers, she almost ran out of the building.

When she got to her car, she let her head
fall against the wheel, the machine off.

Nerve wracking much? She thought, staring
down at her shaking hands. First, she had nearly broken down during
the questioning, and then his little. . .act. She couldn’t make
herself be angry at the man when she knew that deep down she had
enjoyed the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath barely
brushing him, the way he had made as if he were going to curl
around her.

Mary started to frown, reaching for her keys.
She should have pushed him away; he had said he had a date, right?
So why had he practically seduced her with his voice in front of
the whole police force. Her face started to flame.

I’m so stupid. . .stupid,
immature, and inexperienced
, she thought, berating
herself. The man in the room had looked nothing
but
experienced; who was she to even try the
wanna-be act?

Mary started the car, backing out slowly. One
of the cars there caught her attention, and she could feel her face
drop even more. Sleek, black, and dangerous looking, the Bentley
sat under the shade of a tree, money and power dripping off of it
in diamond auras.

She was just turning onto transit when her
phone rang from her purse. Reaching over with her eyes still on the
road, she put it to her ear. “Waters.”

“Do you always have to sound so impersonal?”
Ulrich asked from the other end, sounding bemused.

“Not really, I didn’t see the caller. I’m
driving,” she explained, turning her blinker on.

“I see.”

“So, what did you need?” Mary put the phone
between her ear and shoulder, turning onto her street.

“Just warning you that I’ll be coming over in
about five to ten minutes.” He sounded. . .worried.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, turning off the
car. She didn’t get out.

“Nothing, Mary. Just stay inside and I’ll be
there shortly.”

The line dropped.

Sighing and running a hand through her hair,
she opened her door and grabbed her purse. Sometimes, her brother
worried her, made her think that he was losing his mind and most
likely never going to get it back.

She flipped the switch to her living room,
moving to fall back into the soft couch. Her muscles were so tense,
so strung that she felt as if she never wanted to move from that
spot again. Mary slipped off her shoes and curled into a ball, arms
wrapping around herself.

Her eyes were closed, her body about to shift
into her feline form, when the sound of the door opening made her
eyes pop open.

She completely forgot about her brother, her
tiredness, and the sweet dreams of Jaques that were supposed to be
playing around in her head. Mary stayed still, threatened. She
slowly got to her feet.

Silence. The sound of a foot step.

Then the familiar smell of her brother.

Her shoulders slumped so much that she could
have fallen. God, she had been close to fainting with fear and
adrenaline, thinking of all the young women who had been killed in
the past months. Thank lord it had been her brother and not some
murderer, or she would have been screwed.

Tired, wary, worn-out, whatever you wanted to
call it was what she was.

“Mary?” a deep voice called out.

“In here,” she said, the tiredness revealing
too much.

“Are you okay?” Ulrich came around the
corner, eyes worried, shoulders tense, looming and dangerous.

She nodded silently, moving to the couch.

“What’s wrong?” His hand closed around her
shoulder.

“Just a little tired, nothing to worry
about.” Mary waved his hand away, and wished she could have gotten
rid of the look in his eyes just as easily.

He sat beside her silently, eyes catching up
on the dim lighting and depressing feel of the house. She wondered
if he would ever understand what it was like to be her, to be a
female Chosen, to be alone.

Lately, everything that had been
happening had started to build on her shoulders. She felt as if the
world was sitting on top of her and not ready to move in the
slightest. It was as if. . .she were trapped. There was no way she
could get out of the stress, get out of the fear, get out of the
responsibility of running a whole
pacchetto
with murders and fighting and
everything else of the sort.

“I’m going to start packing your bags for
you, you just sit here and rest.” Her brother finally stood, acting
as if nothing about what he was saying was shocking.

“Wait, what?” Her blinking eyes turned to
his.

“Take a nap or something, Mary.” His voice
was. . .sad.

Instead of doing what she most wanted
to do, she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “What the
hell are you talking about? I’m not going to take a nap while
you
pack
for me. Why would I
even need to?” she asked, incredulous.

He stared at her, then finally said. “Your
going to move in with me.”

Her eyes popped wide, and she held up a
hand. “Hold on. I’m trying to understand this
crap
that your telling me and thinking of a way
to tell you
hell
no
.”

Ulrich let out a breath of irritation. “Don’t
go being independent on me now, Mary. I talked to mom a bit ago,
and she agrees that either I should stay with you or you should
stay with me.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He raised a brow.

She took a step toward him, finger stabbing
his chest. “Yeah. Why?”

“The murders are getting close to your
house. Have you not noticed that, Mary? That
every single
killing is only getting closer to
you?”

She paused, backing down from him. Was it
natural to feel your heart in your head? She thought, sitting down
weakly. Mary paled, knowing that her brother was right, as much as
she wished he wasn’t.

“You're staying with me till this is over and
that’s the end of it.” Her brother’s cold, hard voice brought her
eyes up. Protecting her, always there for her.

She shook her head.

“I won’t let you do that, I can’t let
you risk your life for me if he
does
come after me,” she whispered.

“Are you kidding me right now? First, you
plan on making the change of the century, and now you're just ready
to be killed. I—” His green eyes, so much like hers, bore into
her.

He stalked from the room.

“Ulrich, please! I can’t do that, okay? I’ll
be fine, I’m sure he doesn’t even know who I am!” she lied, running
after him.

When she found him in her closet, she
grabbed for his shoulder and tried to pull him back. “Ulrich, calm
down! Nothing has happened yet, so nothing
will
happen.”

He rounded on her. “That’s what those
other girls thought, too! One second they are happy, alive and
living their lives. The next? Dead. That could be
you
, and I will
not
have my sister dead because I couldn’t
protect her!” He shouted, voice breaking on the word
“protect”.