Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4) (14 page)

I put the dress back in the box and sipped my coffee. I needed accessories. "Amalie get the
captain on the phone."

Five minutes later I had an appointment with the new
captain of SPTF and Amalie was on her way to class- not before making me promise to call her with an update after the meeting.

She may be the new liaison but she hadn't given up her advanced studies. Especially not since she was so close to mastering ley lines. When Mahalia r
an the coven she had chosen Amalie's path, making her a healer. Finally out from under the high priestess, thanks to her incarceration, Amalie chose another way to focus her magic. She would have made an excellent healer but she was a natural at harnessing the lines.

I decided to dress to impress for my first meeting with the new captain. I had never laid eyes on him but I would bet good money he wore a three piece suit
every day. My jeans and tee shirts probably wouldn't win me points with the former fed. And I definitely wanted to win him over. Especially if I was walking out of the station with Mercy Brown's cross. It would push all the right buttons with Caligula. I couldn't leave the captain’s office without it. The long black sweater hugged every curve and could almost pass for a dress. Black leggings and knee high leather boots completed the outfit. Satisfied with the clothes, I ran a brush through my hair until the black waves cascaded down my back. I did a couple turns in front of the mirror. Bad ass chic.

I headed back into my closet and pulled out a garment bag from the back. The plastic zipper bag held a coat that cost almost a
month's salary when I worked for SPTF. It was my one and only designer purchase. I splurged, more like emptied the savings, when I got a new job and a pay raise. I had yet to wear it. Should I?

It was ridiculous to have a coat this expensive and ne
ver wear it. The odds of getting blood and guts on it seemed relatively low, so I undid the zipper and breathed in the waft of leather and wool smell. I wasn't usually one of those girls who went crazy over clothes or even enjoyed shopping - I did most of mine online - but when I saw it on Fashion Finder I knew I had to have it.

I pulled
out the Rag and Bone Falcon coat and slipped into it. Dressing like this every day in my line of work wasn't practical but it was just the ego boost I needed. I was going to have the new guy eating out of the palm of my hand. Hell, he'd probably put the necklace on me if I asked.

I dug in my purse for the keys to the Camaro and r
emembered I didn't have the car anymore. I got hit with a serious case of separation anxiety. Aidan and the car were a package deal. I dug in my junk drawer for my car keys. Little pangs hit my chest when I went out to warm up my car.

It wasn't the Camaro, not even close but I couldn't chance being caught walking out of the between at SPTF. I opened the door to my convertible VW Rabbit, cringing at the loud creak in the hinges. I'm pretty sure my car was the inspiration for Adam Sandler's Ode To My Piece Of Shit Car.

It was supposed to be a Cabriolet when I bought it, turned out the seller changed all the badges on the car. Hence forth called the Rabriolet, the windshield wipers didn't work right if the radio was on, the headlights dimmed if you used the horn, the rag top leaked and on occasion flames shot out of the passenger side vents. So it was no surprise I fell in love with the Camaro or that the Rabriolet had refused to turn over. I looked around, making sure the little parking lot beside my building was empty and slipped into the between. Not willing to chance being seen walking out of thin air, I chose a little alleyway a couple streets down from the station.

Confident the coast was clear I stepped out of the alley and right into Masarelli. He grunted a greeting as I checked my coat for grease stains from the impact. The way my day was going I wouldn’t be surprised to find the remnants he w
ore of his lunch stuck to the front of me.

He didn't ask and I didn't offer a reason why I c
ame out of that alley, so we walked in silence to the station together. We parted ways at his desk but I felt him watching me as I made my way to the captain’s office. I looked over my shoulder as I knocked on the door. Masarelli didn't look away. His expression was flat but his eyes said he knew I was up to something and he was going to find out what. I would have to cover my tracks. I didn't need him or the officers he was no doubt going to put outside my apartment tailing me.

I was still locked in a staring contest with Masarelli when the
captain opened his door. He cleared his throat in an effort to get my attention. I turned and blinked a couple times adjusting my focus. If the FBI had a calendar, this guy would be February. No one should look that good in a suit.

The classic cut and black fabric of his jacket only e
mphasized his rugged good looks and the small scar on his upper lip. The buttons of his white shirt stretched across his broad chest. With the top button undone and his grey tie pulled loose, he oozed boardroom sexy but I don't think he knew it or was comfortable with it. I thought for sure he would be a pencil pusher but this guy had obviously spent more time in the field than he had behind a desk. So how did he end up in Salem running SPTF?

"You must be Maurin Kincaide." He extended a massive hand. I kept my cool, praying there wasn't drool on my chin, and shook his hand. My hand practically disappeared inside his but I kept a firm grip. "I'm Mason Hunter. Have a seat." He let go of my hand to point to the chairs in front of his desk. I caught an
undercurrent of power as my hand slipped from his. Damn, I should have tried to get a read. There was more to this fed coming to town than just replacing Matthison. He hid his power well, he seemed as surprised as I was that I felt it.

I was so glad I chose to dress up for the occasion. I u
nbuttoned the Falcon coat and draped it over one of the chairs. His eyes moved from my boots to my eyes, taking his time taking in every inch. This should be fun. I sat down and crossed one leather boot clad leg over the other, while he settled himself behind his desk.

It was weird how Masarelli sat behind that same desk a couple days ago and all I thought about was Matthison. But Hunter was different. Whatever the power rippling beneath his skin was it gave him an edge. He had pretty big shoes to fill with Matthison’s retirement but I got the feeling he was man enough for the job.

"So what's this meeting about, Miss Kincaide." The chair groaned as he leaned back, arms crossed over his chest. I couldn't help but notice the biceps stretching the sleeves of his jacket. Which was probably the point.

"I thought it would be a good idea for us to get a
cquainted since we're working the same case."

He unbuttoned his jacket, eased to an upright position and then stretched across his desk. "Don't you mean size me up? See if I'm willing to play ball."

"I'm not the only one sizing someone up, Captain. And I knew you were willing to play before I came here. If you weren't you would have run with Masarelli's rogue theory instead of suicide pact. That was pretty imaginative, by the way."

"Just because I don't want unnecessary panic gripping my town doesn't mean I am going to turn this investigation over to you."

"So it's your town now is it?"

"From the moment I accepted the job."

"Still, you could have said it was a norm."

"A serial killer is a serial killer. It doesn't matter if it's vamp, were
, or norm. People panic and then do stupid things."

"Some people might say lying about murders your first week on the job is a stupid thing to do."

"And what about you? Are you one of those people, Miss Kincaide? Something tells me you're not very good at playing by the rules either."

"Rules are made to be broken, is that it?" Shit, why was I goading him? I was supposed to be winning him over with my sparkling personality and dazzling detective skills. Not antagonizing him. I couldn't seem to help it and he seemed to be enjoying it as much as me. I'd almost say he was flir
ting if we weren't here to talk about murders.

"Sometimes things aren't always black and white. You have to find the grey, the in between. Don't you agree
, Miss Kincaide?" Something about the way he said between convinced me he wasn't speaking metaphorically. He knew about me. But how? No one here, not even Matthison and especially not Masarelli knew what I could do. Oh my god, I was on the government's radar. I was in so much trouble when the Council found out.

"Please, call me Maurin. You seem to know so much about me it's only right we're on a first name basis."

"Then you must call me Mason. Everyone else calls me Captain or Hunter."

Hunter, hunter. Where had I heard that? It was som
ething important, something... My eyes widened as I realized who was sitting across from me. The Hunter. His eyes crinkled with amusement as the realization spread across my face. "You marked my door!"

"You have a tendency to attract a lot of enemies. Co
nsider it a token of my friendship."

"How did you manage to get this job?"

"I transferred."

"You transferred? But you're with the Hunt. So you did what? Just put in a request, someone signs the form and voila you're here running SPTF?"

"Not quite. I'm still very much a part of the Hunt."

"So you're a Huntsman and a fed?"

"Not any more, now I'm a Huntsman and a captain."

I tried not to roll my eyes, I really did. "I already told my father, I'm not starting any lessons until after I take down the murderer."

"Of course. I don't want anything to distract you. There is so much I want to show you, to teach you. When you're with me I want your full attention." Now he was definitely flirting.

The thought of his undivided attention made me more than a little nervous and set off a flock of butterflies in my stomach. He was filled with power, confidence, sex, just si
tting there behind his desk. If we were away from prying eyes and ears and he concentrated all of that on me, my panties would melt for sure. And what about Aidan? This would test more than one kind of power during our lessons. He looked at me the way a lion might a gazelle. The hunter found his prey and was stalking it.

I cleared my suddenly dry throat. "If we could get back to the reason I asked to meet with you." He waved me on, smiling wickedly. He knew he got to me. "We can help each other. You have something I need and I have something you want."

I sucked in a breath. That sounded perfectly reasonable in my head but I heard the double entendre as soon as the words fell from my lips. I thought his last smile was deliciously wicked but this one actually went to his eyes and hinted at what he'd like to do with the things he wanted. The small dimple in his left cheek practically had me fanning myself. I was in so much trouble.

"I have information and you have one silver cross on a chain I'd like to borrow."

"Something tells me there's more to this exchange."

"I want you to keep your men out of my way. Masarelli is probably setting up a tail right now but you're going to tell him it's a waste of man power. You're going to block him at every turn."

"You used to be a part of this team, is it so difficult to work with them? I would think you would have use for them on your investigations."

"You're new here, so I don't expect you to understand that the only person who wanted me on that team used to sit behind that desk. I do fine by myself."

"You won't have to worry about Masarelli. We've already publicly closed the case. The girls were all victims of cyber bullying, they met in a support group on Facebook that quickly changed tone. The girls fed off one another's suffering until they agreed it would be easier to end their lives."

"Is any of that true?" I knew what had really happened to those girls but my heart ached to think that classmates, coworkers and sadly family were as cruel to these girls as the monster who killed them.

"Unfortunately, yes. The only deception is the means of their true death. These girls, all of them, were already touched in the head. They most likely would have ended their lives without the help of our killer.

"Fucking tragic." I wanted to weep, for the dead girls, for their families for the loss of our humanity and compa
ssion for others. For the part of myself I saw in them.

"Life is full of tragedy. We see more of it than others b
ecause we live in the darkness, chase the monsters. It makes the light burn that much brighter on the rare occasion it touches our lives. Now, tell me what is so important that I shouldn't return the necklace to the girl’s parents with the rest of her effects?"

"What if I told you Caligula looked good for the mu
rders?"

He walked around to the front of his desk, leaning against the corner. "I'm listening."

I told him about the reading - on the necklace and at the morgue. His eyebrows went up a little in amusement when he heard how we managed to get in. I finished with the visit Aidan and I paid to the ancient last night, the delivery to my apartment this morning and my dinner plans for tonight. I could tell Caligula was someone he wanted. Maybe for a very long time. Had he managed to elude Hunter?