The Cursed (The Unearthly) (6 page)

For the next twenty minutes the pathologist went over the details of the open wounds
—
both made by a dagger, both done in a single stroke, both made while the victim was still alive. Given the fact that both wounds happened simultaneously, that meant that two knives were used.

“So, unless the killer was extremely dexterous, …” I said.

Grigori finished the sentence for me. “We have more than one killer on our hands.”

As my eyes
moved over the victim, a familiar smell wafted off of her. Ash. Beneath it was an even fainter smell of something floral. The body had been dead for too long and exposed to too many people to know for sure that this scent belonged to the killer. But it was enough to develop a theory.

Grigori’s phone chirped. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it, walking to the other side of the room to talk.

Caleb walked around the examination table and he whistled low. “It’s hard for me to believe that the victim wasn’t under duress,” he said, staring at the victim’s feet.

I came to his side and studied the feet. They’d been cleaned of blood and debris, and it was easy to now see just how severely they’d been sliced up.

I had to agree. People didn’t just willingly injure themselves this way. My eyes drifted back to our victim’s face.

Her feet were the only evidence of duress. There were no broken nails, no scratch marks or bruising that would indicate our victim fought back. It was as though she’d chosen to walk barefoot until her skin was raw. As though she’d agreed to be murdered.

Very strange.

The click of Grigori’s shoes drew my attention up to him.

“Gabrielle, Caleb,” he said, clasping his phone in his fist, “we need to go. There’s been another murder.”

Chapter 7

I scowled at
the snowy scenery we drove past while Caleb chatted with Grigori. We had a serial killer on our hands
—
oh, excuse me, serial killer
s
. There were at least two of them. And it was my job to capture these sickos. In the middle of a blizzard. While bloodthirsty vampires were holding a trial I needed to stay far away from. Happy fucking holidays to me.

My cellphone vibrated as a text from Oliver came in.

What address are you staying at, Sabertooth? I want to mail you your Christmas present. Long distance bosom hugs for my favorite consort in the world. Muah!

My lips twitched as I read Oliver’s message. I sent him my address before setting the phone aside. God I missed my friends.

The car slowed as we approached a line of parked vehicles, and I glanced one final time at the map of Romania resting on my lap. I’d snatched it up back at the station when I’d learned that the second murder scene was located in an entirely different region of Romania. One that had taken us over two hours to get to.

Two areas had now been circled, representing the two crime scenes. The latest one had occurred in Bistrița-Năsăud County, located northeast of Cluj.

I set the map aside as Grigori parked the car along the side of the rode, and then the three of us hopped out.

Caleb, Grigori, and I followed the stream of inspectors into the forest. Like the last crime scene, this one was also located in the woods. By the time we arrived at the small clearing where the second body was located, investigators and crime scene technicians swarmed the area.

An inspector approached us, greeting Girgori and eyeing Caleb and me. Just like the pathologist, his eyes lingered on my face, and I saw a mixture of lust and repulsion within them.

Ah, infamy, thou suck.

After exchanging a few more words, the inspector handed Caleb and me a set of gloves and motioned for us to follow him.

I tugged on the gloves and weaved through the throng of officers and forensic technicians. My breath caught when my gaze landed on a wooden altar. The victim still rested on it, a thin film of snow now covering her body.

I couldn’t look away from the peaceful expression on her face. Laying there, she reminded me of Snow White. Dark hair, pale skin, delicate features.

The group of us approached the altar, each focusing our attention on the latest victim.

Unlike the last altar, which seemed to grow out from the earth itself, this one was made of polished wood and intricately carved. Had it been set up specifically for this murder? If so, that took an amazing amount of time and organization.

I crouched down and studied the designs cut into the wood. Flowers and fruit were carved along the edges of the altar, and inside them were a series of images broken into frames. In one, a female figure knelt in a field of flowers. In another a man held a screaming woman. In another a different woman stood alone, a desolate expression on her face. The images were sad and disturbing, and I couldn’t make sense of them.

I pushed myself up and stared down at the body laid out in front of me. The twine noose cinched tightly around her neck was still there, now discolored with her blood. I pressed my lips together as my eyes moved to the severed skin below it, where her throat had been slit. Just like the first victim.

My eyes traveled down. She wore a white gown marred by a deep crimson stain above her heart. A third wound
—
probably a stab wound to the heart
—
again, identical to the last victim.

My nose flared at the smell of blood. She smelled heavenly. Literally. The scent hit the back of my throat and I could taste holiness in it. It should’ve been impossible to sense, but I could, just like I could feel evil. I knew that if I had a sip of her blood, I’d taste God in it.

Another angelic victim. The similarities between the two deaths were so precise. So organized.

I circled the body, wanting to get a look at her feet. Would that detail be the same too? Could the killers really have replicated the first murder so completely?

As soon as the victim’s feet came into view, my mouth thinned. Blood and grime stuck to them, just like the last victim.

My eyes moved back to the white shift she wore. No one wore an outfit like this in the winter, which meant she’d changed
—
or someone had changed her. And the exposed skin along her hands and arms was unblemished. She hadn’t fought her attackers either.

None of it made any sense.

Finally, my gaze landed on her face. Death had already turned her loveliness into something disturbing. The snow that came to rest on her forehead, nose and mouth didn’t help. No living person would lay in the same position long enough to collect that much snow.

A gust of wind blew through the trees. I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched a few strands of the victim’s hair stir in the breeze. She’d never again be able to brush that hair from her face.

I closed my eyes. Now was not the time to think of her as a human. Not if I wanted to keep it together.

I breathed in and out in an effort to calm myself. Instead, my back went ramrod straight as a smell caught my attention. It was the same smell I noticed back in the morgue. The smell of ash and something else, something floral.

I almost jumped out of my skin when a hand landed on my arm. “What is it?” Caleb asked.

I’d been so hyper focused on the crime that I’d forgotten about the people around me.

My eyes moved to his. “I think I know our killer’s scent.”

Caleb’s eyes widened
. “Could you follow the scent to its source?”

I chewed the side of my lip. “I could try.”

Caleb nodded, and I heard the excited thump of his heart. “Do it.”

I closed my eyes and breathed in, cringing when I smelled a healthy dose of desire wafting off of Caleb
—
that was so inappropriate right now
—
until I found the scent I was looking for. It came from two different directions. The strongest was near the victim’s head, but a fainter scent drifted in from the forest beyond.

I turned, keeping my eyes closed, and began walking towards the source of the scent. Next to me I could hear Caleb’s footfalls shadowing mine. “Will you let me know if I’m about to run into a tree?” I asked, eyes still shut.

“And ruin all the fun?”

I whacked Caleb in the shoulder.

“Ow, Dracula,” he said, “how did you know where I was?”

“I followed the scent of stupid right to you.”

“Low, Gabrielle,” Caleb said, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

I grinned as well. I missed the easy teasing between the two of us. A wave of desire hit my nostrils, and my grin slipped. “Caleb …”

He groaned. “It’s not like I can help the way I smell. I’ll just … try staring at a tree while I follow you,” he said, “… hopefully the one you run into,” he added under his breath.

“Hardy-har-har,” I said.

The scent recaptured my attention and I moved towards it, letting my nose guide me. The smell got stronger, and then it ended. I stopped and opened my eyes, glancing down at the object in front of me.

Nestled in the dead leaves was a glossy black business card. Caleb crouched down and picked it up.

“It’s an advertisement for Thirst, a nightclub in Cluj,” Caleb said. He flipped over the card and his eyes widened. “Looks like you have a murderous admirer.”

“What?”

He handed the card over to me. “See for yourself.”

Careful to only touch the edges of the card, I read the message:
Be here tonight at midnight. I look forward to meeting you, Gabrielle.

I chewed on
the nub of my pen as I went over the case with Caleb. “So far we know that the victims died in the same manner, that more than one person has to be involved
—
”

“And at least one of them smells like flame broiled roses,” Caleb added with a smirk.

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you mocking me?”

He raised his hands. “Those were your words, not mine.”

Damn him, I
had
used those words when he’d asked about the smell on the drive back. I leaned forward in my chair, looking over the papers spread in front of us. We sat in my room, huddled around the desk next to my bed.

“Oh, by the way, the forensics team pulled a partial fingerprint,” Caleb said.

My eyebrows shot up. “They did?”

“Yep,” he said, reaching across the desk and taking a swig of his coffee. “I overheard that when we bagged and tagged the business card.”

Ugh. The business card. I rubbed my eyes. It was proof that once again I’d managed to personally ensnare myself in a series of murders.

“Not that it matters since you’ll be meeting one of the killers tonight.”

I groaned. “Don’t remind me.” Already the Politia was making arrangements for my little murderous meet-and-greet this evening. We’d need to leave in another few hours to set up the recording devices and go over what I needed to say.

They knew I’d find the card. They wanted me to find it.
Whoever “they” was.

My gaze drew down once more to the map. “Is the second murder on a ley line?” I asked. I’d assumed it was, but assuming and knowing were two very different things.

Caleb gave me a blank look.

I blinked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because you’re the demonologist here.”

I grimaced. “I hate it when you say things that make sense.” I grabbed my bag and rifled through the papers I’d Xeroxed back at Peel Academy. Several of them were maps of known ley lines in Romania.

I pulled one of the maps out that covered the region of Bistrița-Năsăud, squinting at the smudged lines and loopy handwriting. The original map had been hand drawn, and my version was a copy of a reprint. A.k.a., the quality sucked balls. But even with the poor quality reprint I could tell that no ley lines ran through our second crime scene.

Well hell.

“This murder wasn’t on a ley line,” I stated, confused. I glanced up and met Caleb’s eyes. “Why would the first murder occur on a ley line, but not the second?”

Caleb pinched his lower lip as he thought it over. “The location of the first murder could’ve been a coincidence,” he said. His eyes found mine. “Or … the location served another purpose altogether.”

I furrowed my brows. “Like what?”

Caleb stared at me, his eyes troubled. “Like luring Gabrielle Fiori to Romania.”

Chapter 8

I readjusted my
miked cleavage for the millionth time as Caleb and I stepped out of Grigori’s car. Club Thirst was just a few doors down.

Grigori rolled down the window and leaned over the console. “I will be around the corner listening with the rest of the team,” he said to me. “Remember what we talked about.”

I nodded. I’d go in, act normal until I was approached, ask the questions the Politia wanted to know, and when I was finished, I’d tuck my hair behind each ear
—
my cue to the undercover guards posted throughout the club to take down the murder suspect. Easy peasy.

Yeah,
right
.

Grigori paused, and I saw the moment he went from a colleague to a fatherly figure. “Don’t be a hero. The second something feels wrong, you get out of there
—
both of you.”

“Of course,” I murmured.

“Do you remember the phrase you are to use if you need help?” he asked.

“‘I don’t think I like it here,’” I repeated from memory. It wasn’t forgetting it I was concerned with. No, I was more concerned about slipping the phrase into a conversation with the murderer suspect.

“Good. You two keep an eye on each other.”

“We will,” Caleb said.

Satisfied with that, Grigori drove off, leaving us alone. I cracked my knuckles as we approached the entrance to Thirst. A long line stretched down the block, one we wouldn’t have to wait in. But before I had time to fish my badge out of my bra, the bouncer guarding the door eyed me and then stepped aside and let us through.

“That was weird …” I said.

Caleb shrugged and said something back to me, but the pounding music of the club swallowed his voice.

A dozen sets of eyes clung to me as I moved through the club. Self-consciously I smoothed down the tiny red dress I’d been asked to wear. The Politia wanted me to be noticed
—
both so that I caught the murderer’s attention and so that I had many witnesses.

My gaze swept over the crowd. This late in the evening, most of the club goers were drunk, and their otherness was slipping through to the surface. Slitted pupils, a flash of scales,
fur
. Those were the monsters in the mix. The more common supernaturals
—
witches, seers, and such
—
were less obvious, but if I looked closely, I could catch a glimpse of their manifested powers as well.

Many of the clubbers stared back at me, not bothering to look away even when I met their gaze. I had no idea who I was supposed to meet.

Gee this wasn’t awkward.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Caleb said, loud enough for me to hear.

I glanced over at him, but he wasn’t looking at me. I followed his gaze across the room.

I only had a second to register the thrum that now overshadowed the pounding music and the collective dip in conversation before my eyes fell on the object of Caleb’s focus.

Andre.

Andre was already
staring at me, and ho, he did not look pleased. Yay, I’d managed to piss off my immortal boyfriend without even trying this time. That deserved some sort of prize … other than my ass on a plate. ’Cause that’s what the look he was giving me promised.

“Is it just me, or does Andre look like he’s going to murder us?” Caleb asked.

“Not helping,” I said, my eyes never straying from him.

The entourage of scary-looking men that surrounded him followed his gaze. Eep. They looked like they were going to eat me.

Never taking his eyes off of me, Andre pushed forward, the muscle in his jaw feathering.

“Should I shift and hold him off?” Caleb asked next to me.

I shook my head. “That will only make it worse.”

“He’s going to ruin the meeting.”

“Maybe,” I replied, the gears in my mind turning.

The crowd parted for Andre, and every step he took towards me brought his expression in sharper relief. Yep, he was definitely pissed. The current between us amplified as he neared. I could feel it vibrating in my chest and making my fingers tingle.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Caleb’s hands fist. I reached out and touched his arm. “Don’t even think about it,” I said. “If you start a fight in here, this whole thing is going to fall apart.”

Caleb worked his jaw and reluctantly nodded, uncurling his fists and relaxing his muscles.

I felt a surge of energy run through me, and when I looked up, Andre’s eyes had moved to where my hand still touched Caleb’s arm. Something primal and possessive had entered into his expression. I would’ve rolled my eyes except this whole situation was clearly heading south, and fast.

“Grab us some drinks Caleb.”

“But
—
”

I gave him a light shove in the direction of the bar. “Just please, do it.”

Caleb reluctantly left me just before Andre closed the remaining distance between us.

Then Andre’s hands were on either side of my face. “What are you doing here?” he said, his voice almost desperate.

I was expecting anger, but not this, not the intense worry written onto his features. I wrapped my hands around his wrists. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I had a break between sessions of the trial, so I came here to meet with my staff and managers.” His thumb rubbed my lower lip, and his gaze dropped to my mouth.

Realization hit me like a punch to the gut. “This is your club.” Of course. How had I not put that one together?

“Yes, it is.” Andre took a steadying breath and gazed back up at my eyes. “Now, what are you doing here?”

My breath came faster, and I shifted my focus to the crowd around us. “They knew,” I said, more to myself than to Andre, “they knew this was your club. They had to know you’d be here.” But why? Why?

Andre gave me a light shake. “Gabrielle.”

My eyes honed in on Andre. “There’s been another murder, and the killers left a note for me asking to meet them here.”

“And you came,” Andre said. His voice was calm, his face placid except for that muscle in his cheek. It kept clenching and unclenching.

Uh oh.

“The Politia is here,” I said quietly. “They will make sure nothing happens tonight.”

“The Politia doesn’t give a shit about your life,” he snapped.

I flinched at his words. He said it with such vehemence.

I tried to draw away, but one of his hands dropped from my cheek and snaked around my waist. Instead of letting me go, he pulled me forward, and I stared into those deep, remorseful eyes of his.

His thumb rubbed my cheekbone. “I didn’t say that to hurt you, soulmate.” His expression had gone soft and a little sad. “I just cannot stand by and watch them place you in danger over and over again.”

“Andre, it was my choice to join the Politia, my choice to take this case, and my choice to be here. I am the only one putting myself in danger.”

He cupped my chin. “You need to leave.”

Here we go again. “Andre, we’ve already talked abou
—
”

“There are vampires from the trial here.”

Oh.

Hell.

“
They’re here?” I
said, looking over Andre’s shoulder. My fangs dropped down at the thought. All that Andre had warned me about last night replayed through my mind.

“Some of my bouncers and several of my patrons are vampires,” Andre said. He glanced at the nearby exits. “Now we need to get you out of here
—
”

The music suddenly quieted and a voice came on over the speakers. “Evening all you lovely creatures,” a woman said. The crowd stilled, and the hairs on my arms rose. The voice was melodic, seductive, …
compelling
.

My eyes searched for the source, moving over the packed dance floor and landing on the DJ station. There.

The woman stared at me, and when my gaze met hers, her red lips widened.

The blood drained from my face. I might’ve just caught my first glimpse of the murderer that smelled of ash and roses, and she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Most supernaturals were
easy on the eyes, but she … she made my heart ache.

“Let’s get the party started,” she shouted, riling up the club. She spoke with an English accent. Not Romanian.
Foreigner.
“Get on the dance floor, and dance until you can’t anymore.”

Andre’s hands dropped from where they’d touched me. His eyes flickered, his mouth pulled down into a frown, but he moved away from me.

“Andre!” His shoulder muscles tensed, but he didn’t glance back.

Bodies brushed past me as other club patrons made their way to the dance floor. The bar and lounge emptied; everyone left what they were doing to join the dancing crowd.

The woman had her hand on the DJ’s shoulder, and she whispered something in his ear. He nodded and turned back to the setup in front of him. The speakers blasted as a new song came on, and the crowd began to sway.

As far as I could tell, I was the only one who wasn’t affected. There was only one thing I knew of that could cause this.

I tugged my mike towards my mouth. “Grigori, if you can hear this, then listen to me. I think I just laid eyes on one of the killers, and …” I took a deep breath, “I think she might be a siren.”

I thought I
was the last siren left. I was wrong.

Pushing through the last of the people joining the dance floor, I made my way to the DJ booth. At the back of my mind I registered that I’d been immune to the glamour. I guess it didn’t work on our own kind.

If this woman was one of the killers, then I had an idea how our victims walked so far in their bare feet without any signs of duress. Glamour.

The woman stepped down from the booth, and her dark eyes glittered as she watched me approach her.

As soon as I reached her, she did something wholly unexpected. Pressing a fisted hand to her breast, she knelt at my feet.

I took a step back, now unsure of myself. Out of all the things I was anticipating when I confronted the killer, this was not one of them.

She rose, her eyes moving up until they met mine. “It’s an honor to meet you, consort.”

I started at the name. “Don’t call me that.”

She smiled. “My apologies, Gabrielle.”

That wasn’t exactly better.

My gaze moved to the crowd. At first glance, one would think they were having a good time. But their eyes gave them away. All were empty, unseeing, marionettes strung along by a puppet master. Using glamour in this manner was against the law.

“Let them go,” I said, even as the siren in me stirred. There would be no using the safety phrase. No amount of backup would save the people in this room, and there was nothing stopping this woman from doing to the officers what she’d already done to the rest of the room
—
including the king of vampires.

This was really not his night. It wasn’t really mine, either.

“I will, once we’re finished,” she said.

My eyes moved over her tan skin. It wasn’t glowing
—
actually, I hadn’t seen her skin light up at all this evening
—
yet the room was still under her spell. If she was a siren, how was that possible?

My eyes flicked up and our gazes locked. “What
are
you?”

She stepped up
to me, leaning in. Her mouth skimmed my cheek, making me shudder. “I am just like you,” she whispered, her voice teasing a shiver out of me. She fingered my hair, and as she spoke, her lips tickled my ear. “Same seductive beauty, same powers of persuasion, same cursed lineage.”

She pulled away, her eyes moving to my mouth. “But I am not a siren.”

“Then what are you?” I asked.

Her gaze dropped to my cleavage. Not exactly the response I’d been looking for.

And then she reached down my dress.

I gasped, snatching her wrist, but not before I felt her yank the wires attached to the inside of my outfit. She pulled the listening device out and threw it on the floor, crushing it underneath her stiletto. “Can’t have the Politia ruin all our fun.” She eyed me. “You really shouldn’t be working for them. They hate people like us.”

“And you really shouldn’t be murdering people,” I snapped.

She flashed me a sinful smile and began to circle me slowly. “You have your orders, and I have mine.” Her hand skimmed along my waist, and I swatted it away.

This whole conversation felt like a violation, but what chilled the blood in my veins was that some part of me, the part that called to my darker nature, reveled in it. I wanted to let this woman’s murderous hands continue to touch me and her wicked lips to graze my skin. I wondered if I embraced the siren in me whether I too could wield this kind of power.

“Why are you here?” I asked. Behind her I swear I saw a shadow move, but then she spoke, drawing my attention away from the movement.

“Why, to meet you of course.” She stepped back in front of me.

“And are you going to tell me your name?” I asked, perhaps a tad snarky.

She tilted her head. “Mmm, I don’t think so.”

I was tired of this game of cat and mouse. Specifically, I was tired of being the mouse. The siren in me screamed to be let out, and for once, I caved.

My skin glowed. “Stop killing people.”

The woman looked delighted. “Finally. Took you long enough to come out and play.”

She leaned forward and made a soft sound. Almost as if she couldn’t help it, she brushed a kiss along my neck.

Oh hell no, this murderous ho-bag did not just steal a kiss.

I felt power swell within me the moment before I brought my foot up. I slammed my heel into her chest and kicked her. The force of my blow lifted the woman off her feet and threw her back into the wall behind her. Plaster buckled under the impact of her body as she crashed into it.

Her head lulled and she moaned. “Wasn’t … expecting
that
.”

Ignoring her words, I stalked forward, both the siren and the vampire in me out for blood. I was done playing nice. She wasn’t leaving here tonight unless it was in cuffs or a body bag.

Yeah, don’t come between me and my winter break.

I stopped in front of her body and, grabbing her by the hair, I lifted her up. My fangs came out and my eyes dropped to her neck. I’d never bitten anyone before
—
hell, blood grossed me out. But right now … right now I could smell the scent of ash and roses just beneath the surface of her skin, and my mouth watered.

“Do it,” she said, watching me.

My eyes lifted to her face. She looked eager, and that gave me pause. I breathed in and then out, reining in the siren and the vampire long enough to think logically.

I wanted to munch on her. How disturbing.

I worked my jaw. “No,” I finally said, conquering the urges that warred inside me. “Now tell me: who else is working with you?” I asked, shaking her head.