Born in Blood (The Sentinels) (6 page)
Read Born in Blood (The Sentinels) Online
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
“O’Conner.”
“We have a problem.” As always Molinari was blunt to the point of rudeness.
The five-foot-five middle-aged woman didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she ruled the station house with an iron fist.
“Another one?”
“The body’s missing.”
He sucked in a sharp breath. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it sure the hell wasn’t that.
“Leah?”
“Yep.”
“What the fuck happened to it?”
“No one knows.”
Distantly he was aware of Callie politely stepping away, giving him the illusion of privacy despite the fact she couldn’t help but overhear the conversation. It wasn’t as if he or Molinari were bothering to keep their voices lowered.
“A body doesn’t just disappear,” he growled.
“You think I don’t know that?”
“You checked the tapes?”
“Clean.”
“And no one saw anyone enter or leave the morgue?”
“No one.”
“What about—”
“You wanna come do my job?” the chief interrupted, her tone warning he’d trespassed on her last nerve. “Maybe wipe my ass while you’re at it?”
Duncan grimaced. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”
“Then find out.”
Rubbing his forefinger against the pain beginning to shoot through his temple, he tried to think.
Something that would have been a hell of a lot easier if freaky shit didn’t keep happening.
“The usual chop shops wouldn’t risk stealing a body from the police morgue,” he muttered, referring to the gangs that occasionally made a grab for bodies in the hospital. If they could get them fresh enough the organs went for a fortune on the black market. “Unless there’s a new player in town.”
“I have Caleb checking out the usual suspects,” Molinari said.
“What do you want from me?”
“Find out if the freaks have an extra body hanging around.”
Duncan rolled his eyes. “Great.”
Callie leaned against the bar that separated the small kitchen from the living room.
Despite the rumors, all high-bloods were taught proper manners. She knew that she should leave the room so that Duncan could speak to his chief in privacy.
But she couldn’t deny an irresistible curiosity to discover if the human police had learned any information on the dead female. If they could determine why she’d been chosen as the victim, they would surely be one step closer to finding the murderer, right?
And more importantly, she simply wanted to remain close to Duncan. At least for a little while longer.
Unconsciously her fingers lifted to touch her lips, still swollen from his kisses. She’d half expected to be disappointed. After all, the sexy cop had filled more than one fantasy over the years. How could he possibly live up to her obscenely high expectations?
But he’d not only lived up to them, he’d blown past them as he’d tutored her in the vast array of kisses from tender sweet to raw, bone-melting perfection.
She’d been lost in the sensations that seared through her. The pounding of her heart. The squeeze of her lungs as she struggled to breathe. The aching need that twisted her stomach.
And all from a kiss ...
She wasn’t sure she could survive a full-out assault.
Not that she wasn’t willing to give it a try, she acknowledged with a shiver.
Realizing that Duncan was slamming down the phone, Callie fiercely squashed her renegade thoughts. A dead girl was missing. Now wasn’t the time to be wishing that they’d ignored the knock on the door.
They would have time later to explore the heat that sizzled between them. She intended to make damned sure of that.
Pushing away from the bar, she watched as he turned to meet her steady gaze, a surprising hint of color on his cheekbones.
Because his chief had called them freaks? Or because they were still considered suspects?
Probably both.
“You heard?” he demanded.
She nodded. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”
“It doesn’t matter.” He shoved his fingers through the pale gold of his hair, making her breath hitch at the desire to smooth the short satin strands. “We need to find out what happened to the body.”
Damn. With an abrupt jerk, she was heading across the room. She couldn’t concentrate when she was alone with this man.
“We need to share this information with the Mave.”
She opened the door before he managed to capture her arm and tug her back to meet his hooded gaze.
“Callie.”
A shiver of anticipation crept down her spine. “Yes?”
He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “This isn’t done.”
“You said a kiss,” she reminded him, not about to admit that she’d already made the decision to lock him in her apartment until he proved whether the rest of his skills lived up to her fantasies.
His ego was big enough, thank you very much.
“A kiss for now,” he corrected, his voice gruff.
“And later?”
He pressed his lips to the edge of her mouth before lifting his head.
“I want ... everything,” he whispered in warning.
They were standing there, staring at one another in emotion-charged silence when the sound of approaching footsteps had them both turning to the door.
Once again it was Mel. The healer had clearly broken some rule that demanded community service. Not unusual for a young, impetuous man who’d barely left his teens. And he wasn’t a bit pleased with his duty of carrying messages.
Especially when that duty included playing servant in front of an aggressive male norm.
He glared toward Duncan. “The Mave wants to see you in her office.”
“Good news travels fast,” Duncan muttered.
Callie grimaced. Nothing happened in Valhalla that escaped the Mave’s attention. And a call from the human police chief would have hit her radar at record speed.
“Would you rather speak to her alone?” she asked.
“Hell no.”
There was a snicker from Mel, as if he’d never wet his pants when the Mave called him to her office.
“I’ll show our visitor to the Mave,” she informed the young man.
He sent Duncan another glare. “Should I alert the dungeons they’re about to have a guest?”
“Enough,” Callie said in dismissal, waiting until Mel turned to stroll down the hallway before leading Duncan in the opposite direction.
She kept the pace brisk, but there was no missing the cold, suspicious glances that followed their path.
“Friendly bunch.”
“As friendly as your fellow cops would be if I strolled into the station house,” she pointed out in low tones.
“Touché,” he muttered.
“This way.” Callie turned the corner, headed directly for the Mave’s office. It wasn’t until they were standing in the small alcove directly in front of her door that she realized Duncan was dragging his feet. Halting, she glanced over her shoulder in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about your leader,” he confessed.
“Which rumors would those be, Sergeant O’Conner?” the Mave asked as she pulled open the door to offer Duncan a serene smile. “The one that claims I have actual horns and a tail? Or my personal favorite, the one that suggests I’m nothing more than a myth? Like the Wizard of Oz?”
Chapter Six
Duncan was accustomed to shoving his size twelve foot into his mouth.
It was one of his few talents.
But he wasn’t used to being struck speechless.
Holy shit. He felt like he’d been kicked by a mule as he caught his first glimpse of the mysterious Mave of Valhalla.
It wasn’t just that she was drop dead gorgeous. He had a distinct preference for flame-haired pixies with eyes of sapphires. Or that she displayed her witch’s mark with obvious pride. It was dark enough to warn even a thick-skulled norm that she had enough magic to turn them into something nasty if they didn’t keep their prejudices to themselves.
No, it was simply the power of her presence.
It was etched onto the pale, perfect oval of a face. In the storm gray eyes. And flickered in the aura only his gaze could detect.
Even if he didn’t know a damned thing about this woman, he would realize she was a force of nature.
“Good god,” he breathed.
“Not quite, Sergeant O’Conner,” she murmured as she stepped back and waved an arm toward the black and white room behind her. “Will you come in?”
Awkwardly moving past her slender form, he headed toward the nearest chair. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
“Trust me, I’ve heard worse.” The Mave crossed to stand beside the large desk where a fully loaded tea tray was waiting. “Refreshment?”
“No.” Callie stepped next to him, elbowing him in the ribs to remind him of his manners. “Thank you,” he tagged on lamely, dropping into the leather seat.
Callie took the one next to him while the Mave slid into her seat behind the desk, her gaze on the young diviner.
“Callie, how are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“No headaches?”
“None.”
“Good.” The gray eyes shifted toward Duncan. “I heard that you had a telephone call from your chief?”
Refusing to answer wasn’t an option. Not beneath that unnerving gaze.
“Leah’s body is missing.”
Something darkened the gray eyes. Not the shock he’d been expecting, but ... unease?
“Missing?”
“Yes.”
“Negligence or theft?”
He shrugged, wise enough not to take offense at the blunt question. “No one knows for sure.”
“But your chief suspects that a high-blood was involved?”
He swallowed a groan. Why had he insisted on traveling to Valhalla? It should be Molinari sitting in this chair being grilled by the Mave.
Talk about a clash of the Titans.
Now he was forced to choose his words with care. “She’s just covering all the bases.”
A wry smile twisted her lips. “Very diplomatic, Sergeant.”
“I’m not often accused of diplomacy.”
“No kidding,” Callie muttered beside him.
He flashed her an unrepentant grin before returning his attention to the powerful woman behind the desk.
“The chief has another officer checking out the usual suspects.”
“But?” she prompted.
“There was nothing on the cameras and no eye witnesses,” Duncan confessed. “So either it was an inside job or magic.”
The Mave leaned back in her seat, her expression troubled. “A pity.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was hoping it was a common body snatching.”
A ball of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
If this woman was bothered by something then it had to be bad.
Bad on an epic scale.
“You know something,” he breathed.
Taking a file from the top drawer, she handed it across the desk. “Here.”
His dread deepened as he opened the file to discover newspaper clippings, police reports, and faded photos.
“Paris. Vienna. Johannesburg.” He glanced up in surprise. “How did you get these?”
“I called in a few favors after I spoke with Callie. I thought it important to know if the strange death of Leah was an isolated incident or something”—she considered a beat—“larger.”
Duncan read through the police reports, some that dated back fifty years, before moving to the newspaper clippings that were even older.
He suddenly understood the Mave’s concern.
“Shit.”
Callie reached to lightly touch his arm. “What is it?”
“Leah wasn’t the first murder victim to be missing their heart,” he rasped.
The young diviner frowned, glancing at the file in his hands. “How could you not hear of them? I thought police shared that sort of information?”
“They’ve all happened several years apart and on different continents. The first was nearly a hundred years ago.” He returned his attention to the grainy photos. There was nothing to connect the victims. An aging priest. A rugged explorer. An artist. “Can I share these with the chief?”
“Of course,” the Mave readily agreed.
He lifted his head to meet her steady gaze. “Do these murders have any meaning?”
“Not to me.”
His cop’s instincts picked up on what she wasn’t saying. “But it might to someone else?”
“Most old tales have some kernel of truth at the heart of them,” she murmured.
“Are you speaking of a specific old tale?”
“The ones that claim a necromancer can truly control the dead.”
He shot a startled glance toward Callie, who held up her hands in denial.
“Don’t look at me.”
He turned back to the Mave. “Is it possible?”
“Yesterday I would have said no. Today...” She shrugged.
Great. Just fucking fantastic.
He could already feel the panic that would spread through the human population if word got out there was a necromancer out there killing young females and stealing their bodies. They would load their guns, ready to shoot every freak they could find, regardless of their innocence.
“Tell me more about what these necromancers could do,” he abruptly demanded. He needed a way to halt the killer.
Fast.
“My knowledge is no more than bedside stories.” The gray eyes held a grim understanding of the looming tragedy. “The same ones I’m sure you’ve heard.”
He hissed in frustration. “So I’m looking for a creature from a fairy tale?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Do you have any suggestions where I might start?”
She lifted a dark brow, regarding him as if he were disappointingly dense. “Where else would you start but the Keeper of Tales?”
There was a choked sound before Callie was surging to her feet. “You can’t be serious.”
Duncan slowly rose, astonished by Callie’s fierce reaction. “Who is the Keeper of Tales?” he demanded, almost afraid to ask.
“Boggs. He’s—” The Mave struggled for the right word.
Callie had it. “Crazy,” she said. “Stark raving mad.”
“Eccentric, as are many scholars,” the older woman smoothly corrected. “But he’s managed to collect and preserve our folk tales.”
Duncan frowned. “So he’s a ... librarian?”
“Of sorts,” the Mave hedged.
“Fine, I’ll talk to him.” Duncan shrugged. At this point he’d make a lunch date with Beelzebub if necessary. “If he has information I don’t care if he’s crazy or not.”
The two women exchanged a look that spoke of secrets.
“He isn’t here,” the Mave at last admitted.
“How long will he be gone?”
“Actually, you’ll have to go to him,” the witch informed him.
“If he’ll let you,” Callie added in disgusted tones.
Okay. There were enough undercurrents in the room to drown an elephant. Or a very suspicious cop.
“What am I missing?”
The Mave rose to cross toward the window, moving with a regal grace. “Boggs is unusual even among high-bloods.”
A freakish freak?
Not comforting.
“How unusual?”
“He was born blind, but he insists that people and even objects whisper to him.” Sympathy softened her grim expression. “That’s why he lives in absolute isolation.”
Well ... that didn’t seem so bad. He half expected a lunatic who ate babies for breakfast.
“Whisper what to him?”
“It’s never the same. Sometimes the future ... or at least, a possible future,” the Mave said. “More often it’s the past or the present.”
“It’s nonsense,” Callie muttered.
Duncan studied her flushed face with a lift of his brows. “Do I sense a history?”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “He demanded to see me on the day that Fane became my guardian.”
Duncan’s hands clenched at the thought of this woman being bonded to another. Platonic or not, the relationship made Fane far too possessive.
“Was there significance in the date?” he growled.
“Who knows?” Callie gave a wave of her hand. “The man is a whack job.”
Duncan stilled, studying her growing agitation with a curious gaze. This was not the cool and composed Callie he knew.
“What did he tell you?”
“It doesn’t matter. As I said, he’s nuts.”
Accepting that now wasn’t the time to demand a full confession, Duncan glanced toward the Mave, who was regarding Callie with a worried expression.
“What do you think I can learn from Boggs?” he asked, barely leashing his instinctive urge to tug the fragile diviner into the protection of his arms.
The witch smoothed her features into an unreadable mask as she turned toward Duncan. “His gifts have allowed him to amass a vast amount of knowledge.”
“Yeah, but is it trustworthy?” He grimaced. “We have witnesses coming into the station on a daily basis claiming to have seen murders and kidnappings and even Elvis Presley in a spaceship.”
She held his gaze for a long, unnerving minute. “That’s for you to decide.”
Holy shit. Did she suspect that he had a few unusual talents of his own? He’d never considered the possibility that so many freaks would sense he wasn’t normal when he insisted on traveling to Valhalla.
Stupid of him.
He cleared his throat. Time for a diversion.
“So how do I find him?”
“You can’t,” the Mave informed him. “Not unless he wants to be found.”
So the one person who could potentially give them a clue to the murders was impossible to find. Duncan rolled his eyes. “Perfect.”
“I’ll try to contact him,” the Mave promised, returning to her seat behind the desk. “If he’s willing to speak with you then Fane will be able to locate him.”
“Christ, I thought the day started off bad.” Duncan shuddered, not happy with the thought of being yanked through space with the Sentinel. He didn’t trust the bastard not to deliberately scramble his molecules. “Now I have to spend more time with Lurch?”
Callie snorted. “I doubt Fane will be any happier.”
The Mave glanced toward the young diviner. “I fear he’ll be even less pleased when he discovers you are to accompany them.”
“Ah.” Duncan smiled even as Callie turned a sickly shade of gray. “The day is looking up.”
“Crap,” Callie muttered.
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