Hunted By The Others (8 page)

I slept fitfully on the couch in Sara’s living room. She had guest bedrooms, but I wanted to be woken up if the dogs started barking at any intruders. After a little more talk and planning, she’d gone upstairs to work on the contract on her computer. I didn’t envy her having to retype the whole thing, not only that but then having to use her skills to edit the document just enough that Royce and I could legally go for each other’s throats without worry of legal interference.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, finally drifting off a little past midnight. Then I scared the crap out of myself when I rolled off the couch onto the floor in the middle of the night in the throes of a nightmare. The bruise on my hip from landing on my keys did not improve my mood one bit. The dogs barked for almost fifteen solid minutes, too. Thankfully, Sara must have figured there was no problem since she didn’t come down to check on me and grind my embarrassment home any further.

Two nights in a row of too little sleep didn’t make it any easier to answer Sara’s cheerful “G’mornin’” when she came downstairs around eight o’clock. Muttering darkly under my breath, I dragged myself off the couch and followed her into the kitchen, blearily watching her make coffee, scramble eggs, and toast bagels for breakfast.

“Hey, it’s Sunday,” she said.

I didn’t say anything, just stared back for a minute before riveting my gaze on the Mr. Coffee. I really, really wanted my caffeine fix.

“Sunday,” she said, grinning at my lack of response, “as in, it’s Damien’s birthday and we’re both expected at your mom’s house in a few hours.”

I started, practically jumping out of the seat I’d slumped into at the kitchen table. “Holy crap! It’s that Sunday?”

Dismayed, I looked at the clock on the microwave. I wouldn’t have enough time to get the gift from my apartment, shower, change clothes, call The Circle, and explain to Veronica why I was reneging on the contract while still making it to the party on time.

“Yup.” She shook the spatula at me threateningly. “Don’t even think about it. Deal with work tomorrow. Today’s supposed to be your day off anyway.”

I slid back into the chair, running my hands through my hair in agitation. Well, as much as I could with the unbrushed, tangled curls.

“It’s not just that. I need to get Damien’s gift. It’s in my closet at home.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t. Not since the White Hats broke in the other day. If they’ve been watching you, they may have tried something drastic since you met with Royce again.”

Damn it all to hell and back, I’d forgotten about them. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any bright ideas for that, too?”

“Well, sure. We can swing by the mall on the way over to your mom’s.”

I meant the White Hats, but her idea to handle my brother’s gift made me feel a bit better. Though I soon remembered the contract, my not-quite-good mood shattering. “Did you finish with the papers last night?”

“No, not yet. I have to tweak the fonts and cut out a little of the wording to make it all fit right and say what we want it to say but still look enough like the old contract to pass a casual inspection.”

I nodded, wondering miserably how I was going to stand up to Royce. I quivered just at the sight of him, let alone his fangs. What would I do if he actually jumped at my throat?

“Do you really think he’ll just lodge them with the court without looking at them?”

She laughed at the worry in my voice. “Of course. Nobody but lawyers ever wants to read this kind of stuff. The form he used was really cookie-cutter, too.”

That made me wonder how she was familiar enough with this type of contract to know that it was cookie-cutter. “You’ve worked on these before?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking more sheepish than I’ve ever seen her. Was that a touch of red in her cheeks? “I took a job for a Were about six months ago. She thought her contract partner was cheating on her with another Were and wanted to know what he was up to. Turns out he was cheating, just not with another Were. She wanted to know what her rights were, so she showed me the fill-in-the-blanks standard form they had signed. I helped her a little since the guy she was dating was scum and I felt bad about having to break the news.”

Gross. I made a face and shook my head. “You pick the weirdest jobs.”

“Heh, yeah, I guess I do.” She grinned, plucking the hot bagels from the toaster. “Trust me, he’ll just look for your signature. You’re going to have to act
really
reluctant to hand them over if he’s going to believe you’ve given in, though.”

“That should be the easy part. I
am
reluctant to hand them over.”

The coffeemaker beeped. Finally. I rinsed out our mugs from last night and poured fresh coffee into both, picking through the cabinets, drawers, and fridge to get spoons, sugar, and cream. After fixing up our drinks, I handed one over to Sara before settling back into my seat at the table with a mug cradled in my cold hands.

Relaxing back into the chair, I shut my eyes, only to be startled by the earsplitting sound of one of the dogs going mental right under the window next to me. Some of the coffee sloshed over onto my hands, dragging a pained curse out of me as I sucked my burning fingers into my mouth.

“Shut up, Buster!” Sara shouted, handing me the spatula on her way to the front door. “It’s probably just the paper.”

I got up to tend to the stove, alternately sucking the fingers of one hand while poking and prodding at the eggs with the other. Sara walked back in a minute later, ashen and pale.

“Shia, what was the name of that woman from The Circle you met on Thursday?”

I glanced back at her over my shoulder, wondering at the slight waver to her voice. “Veronica. Veronica Wright. Why?”

She tossed the paper down next to the stove. I dropped the spatula and grabbed the paper, reeling in shock.

MAGE FOUND MURDERED!!!
ARE THE OTHERS AT WAR
? screamed the headline splashed across the front page. Right above Veronica’s smiling picture.

I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I picked at the eggs Sara set down in front of me. I don’t even remember staggering to a seat, but somehow I managed it.

Whatever the cops found must have been pretty bad for the papers to jump on it that quickly. Apparently a neighbor complained about some strange sounds coming from Veronica’s apartment late last night. When the police showed up to investigate and no one answered the door, they busted in and found her body, mutilated and drained of blood. No witnesses and no leads except that it “looked like an Other attack.”

Of all the Others, magi were the closest relations to fullblood humans, according to the hematologists who had done studies. Despite that, any high school kid could tell you that we were still so fundamentally, biologically different that it was almost impossible for us to interbreed. Not impossible, but almost. We weren’t the same species, though we were closer in physical similarities than to once-human Weres or vampires.

Vampires used to be human, but like Weres, what turned them was a magically enhanced virus. It made them both completely different, biologically and metaphysically, even while, for the most part, retaining the physical structure that let them appear nearly human.

The vamp virus animated dead tissue, giving it the semblance of life only without the ability to retain or process certain proteins and enough oxygen to keep it “alive” without periodic infusions of fresh blood.

With Weres, the virus fundamentally altered the structure of their DNA so that they turned furry a few days out of the month. They were still
basically
human, and the males could and often did have kids with normal human females, with a seventy-five percent chance of said kids also turning furry on the full moon come puberty. Female Weres couldn’t have kids due to the fact that shapeshifting was so violent it generally ended up killing the fetuses well before they came to term.

Due to their “normal” appearance and fewer inhuman characteristics, magi weren’t normally treated like the rest of the Others, instead being considered to have the rights of humans. You didn’t need to sign any contracts to work with or have a relationship with a mage, unlike vampires and Were-folk. The White Hats, Mothers Against Others, Concerned Human Citizens, and other similar groups were mostly pissed off about vampires and Weres, and rarely lumped magi into their overzealous rants and witch hunts. However, when something freaky happened, you could rest assured the newshounds and extremists would slot mages into the “Other” category as quickly as a vamp or Were.

Hence Veronica being thrown into the “Other” mix in the headline. The news really didn’t give me much to work with. “Drained of blood” sounded like a vamp attack, but “torn to bits” sounded more like something a Were would do. Vamps didn’t have claws to shred with, and were generally too “refined” to bother using their strength to tear the limbs off their victims. However, Weres generally weren’t aggressive enough to do that kind of damage unless they were being threatened on their own turf while under the influence of the full moon. Plus, if they were shapeshifted, most types of Weres didn’t have the right mouth shape to suck blood out of a body.

“What do you make of it?” Sara asked around a mouthful of food.

Harrumphing, I laid the paper down and sipped gingerly at my coffee, reaching for my fork to poke at my eggs again. “I’m not sure. The police don’t have any leads. The way the paper makes it sound, it’s like a vamp worked together with a Were to tear her apart.”

Which isn’t technically possible, since vamps and Weres are pretty much natural enemies and get into pissing contests with each other at the drop of a hat.

Sara reached across to drag the paper over, skimming the article while she munched on her bagel. “We’d probably have more luck if we get the police file.”

I snickered, shaking my head. “Good luck. Unless you’re still dating Officer Lerian, I don’t see how you expect to get ahold of that.”

Her stiff silence told me enough.

“Oh my God, you are? I thought you two split for the last time like a month ago! ‘I’d rather chew my own arm off than go out with him again,’ you said.”

Muttering, she shoved her plate and the newspaper away, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah, well, so what? I changed my mind, big deal. He’s a nice enough guy.”

Yeah. The “nice enough guy” that tended to leave her in tears within a week or two of their falling back in bed together. I didn’t understand it. Mark Lerian was the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome man, though despite his profession and looks, he was one of the nicest guys I’d ever met. There was no conceit in him at all. He didn’t drink, smoke, or so much as cast an eye at other women whenever he was dating Sara. I know she thought she loved him. That’s what she said anyway. If not for the spats they inevitably had, they’d make the perfect couple.

Why these two couldn’t get along was beyond me, but I hated to see Sara cry. What drove me nuts was that she kept going back to him. They’d split up for a few weeks or a couple of months over something or other, usually because he disapproved too vocally of her lifestyle. Sara wasn’t the only one who disagreed with his views that being a detective was “too dangerous for a woman.” Instead of coming to terms, they inevitably fought, broke up, and within a few weeks were acting as if it never happened. Sara would come in to the office one day gushing about how everything was all better between them—then, BAM! It’d be over. Spectacularly over. Again. The record so far was twenty-two days between the rekindled romance and breakup fight. Wonder how long it would last this time.

I shook my head, figuring I’d give her a rough time about her love life when my own priorities were straightened out and I actually had some moral high ground to stand on. “Will he be able to give you anything on it?”

She shrugged, obviously relieved I wasn’t going to pursue the subject. “I don’t know without talking to him first. Since it’s all over the front page, he may not be able to get any useful info if he’s not assigned to the case. He also may not be willing to talk about it.”

Sighing, I finished off my bagel and got up to take my dish to the sink. I busied myself with the dishes as I tried to figure what Veronica’s murder might have to do with me. Who should I contact at The Circle since she was dead? Maybe Arnold would know what I should do. He might even be able to give me some help with Royce, since he’d offered.

That in mind, I turned back to Sara, who was trying to pull out the funnies without being too obvious about it. “Do you mind if I go upstairs and check my e-mail?”

“Nah, go for it.”

She settled back in the chair and I headed up to the office. She’d left the contract open on the monitor, and I skimmed the first couple of paragraphs, feeling my stomach churning with unease. Rather than freaking myself out any further, I minimized the window and opened up the Internet browser, logging into our work e-mail remotely.

I felt my stomach give another lurch—there, amid the massive amount of spam, was an e-mail from Veronica. It was from last night, around the time I was meeting with Royce, and from a personal e-mail address instead of The Circle’s corporate account. She was still alive while I was spilling out The Circle’s secrets to the vamp.

It took a minute for me to focus beyond her name and see what else was there. There was one from this morning from “ArnieGoblinSlayer20,” which I figured had to be from Arnold.

Feeling ill at reading a message from someone I knew was dead, I opened Veronica’s e-mail.

I reread the message. And again. Damn, that woman was good at making me uncomfortable, even when she was dead.

Shaking off the willies from reading a dead person’s e-mail, I clicked open the one from Arnold. I was mentally counting down the minutes until the police might start looking for me in connection with Veronica’s death, since I was probably one of the last people she called or e-mailed before she was killed.

I sighed deeply, running my hand over my face. This whole tangled mess just kept getting better and better.