

Fang and Claw

The Undead Unit Series 1

Markie Madden

This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and incidents are entirely fictional and are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, (or Undead!), locations, or incidents is coincidental.

Copyright 2015 by Marguerite Madden

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means- electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles—without the express written permission of the author or publisher.

All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. I'm not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

Print ISBN# 978-1502540539

Smashwords ISBN# 978-1311233707

Published by Metamorph Publishing

Over a hundred years in the future, it's a world where supernatural beings live and work among humans. Of course, the government has forced them to take the Undead Oath in order to gain citizenship; they must not prey on humans for food. They're given tasks in jobs suited for their species, but just as among other minorities, they must struggle to prove themselves.

As if dealing with racial prejudice isn't enough, there is also a criminal element, just as there is with any group of beings living in society. The Dallas Police Department has introduced an elite new squad made up of Undead officers and detectives. This unit is dedicated to solving crimes involving Immortals. Headed by veteran Lieutenant Lacey Anderson, can the Undead Unit overcome its obstacles, both internal and external, or will it be doomed to failure?
To Darrell McDowell, who was rudely taken from us on Christmas Day. What better way to live forever than between the pages of a book? I wish I'd had time to know you better. See you around!

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Also to Carrol Burgess, who lost her battle with cancer during the writing of the final chapters of this book. I have many fond memories of playing Yatzee or going to bingo with you. You were a fine lady and you'll be missed in this world. God speed.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

And to Uncle Larry, who passed away during the final editing and formatting. Though I haven't seen you in many years, Christmas Eve will never be the same again! Say hello to Aunt Pat for me, will you?

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Epilogue

Immortal Species List

Coming Soon!

About the Author

Finding her Online

Finding her Books

Acknowledgments

I'd like to take this opportunity to say thank you to a few people who helped me along the way and made this book possible. There's a lot of work involved in writing a book such as this, and many hours spent in research and editing.

The first is author Sharon K. Miller (The Clay Remembers), who gave me great critiques on some of the early chapters and helped me to make my writing as technically perfect as I could. It took a bit to pound into my head the concept of POV, but she persevered! She's a lovely woman whom I met on the online writer's group Scribophile, and I really appreciate all her help.

Another wonderful resource was author Fiona Quinn (Missing Lynx, Weakest Lynx). Besides being an author, she blogs on ThrillWriting insightful articles to help crime writers in various subjects such as weaponry, police procedure, and many other issues relating to crime fighting and prosecution. And if she didn't have an answer, she usually knew who to ask to get it!

Thanks to my beta readers, which includes (among others) authors Claire Plaisted (my sister on another continent, author of the Garrett Investigation Bureau series), Sharon K. Miller, C.K. Dawn (Cloak of Shadows), and Gary Seaton, all of whom offered excellent suggestions, gave me quite an investment in their time, and were always there for me when I got stuck on a word or phrase, or just generally needed to spout ideas or vent about anything and everything! You guys are all the best!

# Prologue

Greece, early 17th Century BCE

The room was silent except for the occasional crackle of wood in the fireplace. She knew Aegon always preferred to burn pine; he said it had the most pleasant scent of all the available woods. She took in a deep breath, and with her heightened senses, she could smell what he meant. The pitchy odor from the sap of the softwood tree filled the small room, and the warmth of the fire gave it a welcoming feel. Spending time in this room was one of her favorite things. She sat comfortably in the low-slung wooden seat, and gazed about the tiny extension of Aegon's home, the place where he did some of his finest work.

The room was unique from others in Athens, because of what hung on the insides of the woven grass walls. Aegon was a clothing-maker, a tailor, and there were many different projects scattered about the room in different stages of completion. He was known for making some of the most elaborate himations, cloaks that were fit for royalty to wear, but as he didn't require much in the way of food or supplies, Aegon always kept his prices low to cater to the peasants living near him.

Several garments were laid out on low work tables, some leather, some of woven cloth, some waiting for the final touches of beads, buttons, feathers, or any number of other decorations. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch them, to examine them closer and learn how they were put together. Aegon was just now putting the finishing stitches on another himation that he had promised would be ready by dawn.

His back was to her, he was busy with a task, so she turned from her inspection of some of his pieces to ask her mentor a question about a cloak, but then she heard the noise. At first, the sound was so quiet she wasn't quite sure what she heard. She tilted her head, straining her hyper-sensitive hearing in case it came again. Her entire being was tense, every muscle in her predatory body primed to move at the slightest provocation. Then, it pierced the air again.

This time, she recognized the Wolf song, though she had never heard it before. Wolves were not native to the area around Athens, though they may have lived in some of the wilder, less populated areas of the country. It didn't matter, her ingrained instincts knew what it was, and all the fine hairs on her body stood on end. A shiver, not quite controlled, ran down her spine. Aegon was still facing away from her, but she saw him tense as well. He, too, had recognized the song. Almost faster than she could see, he turned toward her.

"Stay here," he hissed. "I'm going to find Abana!" And he left in a flash.

With her hero and mentor now gone, her anxiety climbed enough for her to begin quivering in fear. The sound of Wolves had touched some instinct deep inside her, and she was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. If it were possible, her skin would have a light sheen of fear perspiration. As it was, her flesh began to crawl, even though it was dry. She wanted to run, to hide, but she couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Aegon in that way. She would stay and fight, fight to the death if that was what it took.

He returned quickly, beckoning her to follow as the sound of Wolves drew closer. He brought her through the main part of his home, a two-room structure built of stone. The larger of the two rooms held a stone hearth, a small table built of wood with its accompanying stools, and a low padded bench sitting under the biggest window. Aegon led her through to the smaller room, the room he shared with Abana. She never went in this room; they were her mentors, and she always respected their privacy. There were no windows in this room, and the door was made of heavy stone as well. Only someone with incredible strength would be able to open or close it.

She expected Abana to be there, but she wasn't. She looked at Aegon, curiously. He shook his head; it seemed that he, too, had no idea where his wife had gone. A cold mist of fear slicked over her as she fervently hoped Abana wasn't in the garden she loved, where she tended plants as if they were her children. It would not do for any of them to be left so exposed to the threat bearing down upon them.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

The scene shifted, in the way memories sometimes do; now she was ready and waiting for the attack to come. Death was a very real possibility. Merope was between the wall and the low bed belonging to their teachers, cowering with her arms covering her head, sobbing; it seemed the poor girl gave no thought to the fact that she was responsible for the trouble. Phemius lay thrashing on the bed, his dark eyes empty and unseeing, lost inside himself while the illness raged at its peak, and she knew from her own experience that whatever might happen next could not be any worse than the agony he was suffering now.

"Why don't you get up and help?" She hissed through her teeth at the young woman. "You got us into this mess!"

But Merope only shook her head and continued to sob.

Realizing she would get no help from either Merope or Phemius, she reached under the bed, finding a sword that either Aegon or Abana had, in preparation, left there, and she swung it in her hands a few times, trying to get used to the weight and find the balance of the weapon. She was as ready as she could be. She tuned out Merope's sobbing cries, and focused all her attention on the howling of the Wolves. They were closer now. So very close....Close enough she could hear not only the song but the snarls as well.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Once more, the scene shifted, and she regained consciousness to find herself laying on her side, on the hard floor. Pain stabbed through her body and at that moment, she wished for death. She and Aegon were the only two left alive, she, injured, and Aegon, valiantly trying to fight off a pack of ten alone. She tried to get up, tried to roll over, tried to reach for the sword mere inches from her hand. Each movement was agony, and she moaned, hoping to catch the attention of one or more of the Wolves. But through the snarling and the loud bumps and thumps of battle, no one heard her.

At that moment, she was paralyzed, and she could not close her eyes to the horror of what was happening before her. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she watched her mentor, who she had come to know as father, being torn to shreds. The scent of his blood was overpowering. The sound of sinew and muscle tearing was a roar in her head. One Wolf had Aegon by the shoulder, another had teeth sunk deep into his hips. The rest of the pack were darting in for quick slashes of teeth and claws before jumping out of his reach again.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

United States, 2118 CE

With a cry of distress, the woman sat bolt upright in her four-poster bed, throwing aside the velvety soft bed sheets. The vestiges of the memory remained even though her eyes were no longer glazed with sleep. Had it been possible, she would have been drenched in sweat. Had it been possible, her heart would have been pounding. But for her, those things were impossible. Absently, she rubbed the old scars on her arm and tried to push away the memories that had haunted her for so long. For Lacey knew she was no longer in the 17th century.

# 1

Dallas, Texas, United States, 2118 CE

Though the passing of time meant little to Lacey Anderson, she knew it was the year 2118 Current Era, and just edging into late fall, the hot and humid Texas days merging with crisp, cool, desert-like nights. The world was the same as it always had been, but everything had changed. The thin tapestry of rigid society had experienced a change of epic proportions many decades ago with the acknowledgment of the Undead, a derogatory term humans used to identify species of beings with an immortal, or almost so, lifespan. Those like myself, she mused.

Lacey remembered the day she had been forced to take the Undead Oath. It had been a choice of taking the Oath, or being executed. Though she had lived and worked among humans for centuries, she had to stand before a judge and repeat the words of the Oath while sworn to tell the truth. The Oath made each of the Immortals swear to abide by all human laws, especially where the harming of others was concerned. No Immortal could work among humans without taking it. The Oath was worded in a different way for each species; for her, it meant not drinking human blood.

All of this passed through Lacey's mind in a flash as she gazed out the window over the shoulder of a large man sitting comfortably in a huge burgundy chair with gold accents. Even though the leather chair was extra-large, the man's sheer bulk made it appear tiny, as if he were an adult trying to use a child's seat.

"You want me to do what?" She finally asked as she stood at stiff attention, back ramrod-straight, the hands clasped behind her vibrating with anger. Despite the precaution of the closed office door, she was sure the sound of her raised voice was apparent to whomever was still at their desks in the bullpen. She didn't even bother to look over her shoulder through the frosted glass window on the door. "What is this, some way to get me to quit so you don't have to fire me?"

Her commander, George Wilson, a big, burly man whose pate was covered in thick, black hair shot with silver, shook his head. He sat behind his pristine oak desk, large, paw-like hands folded together and resting on the immaculate blotter. The huge window behind him offered a breathtaking view of the bustling business district around them. The tawny colors of dusky sunset sparkled in the spaces between city skyscrapers. With a bemused expression, he explained the new assignment to her.

"The unit is being formed as an experiment." His voice was like a military commander during a debriefing, a leftover habit from his days of serving in the Army. "Believe me, I fought against it as hard as I could, but I was outvoted." He cleared his throat. "It's thought, by some," and his voice betrayed his frustration of the stupidity, "that a unit made up of Undead officers will have more success in investigating and closing cases involving either Immortal victims or perpetrators. Though you'll be in charge, we felt that you needed a second and partner who could complement your strengths and balance out your weaknesses."

My weaknesses? She stared at her commander, the man she had taken under her wing when he was just a rookie, and they were both beat cops. She'd taught him everything she knew, and as he rose in the ranks, they'd been partnered for years. The kind of bond that blossomed between two officers who trusted their lives to one another was not something that was easily built. Even when he had been promoted above her, because she refused to play the politics of his position, they still shared that connection.

She could remain still no longer, and started to pace as he outlined the duties of the newly-formed specialty unit within the elite ranks of the Dallas Police Department. The thick, plush carpet beneath her well-worn boots masked any sound she may have made, and sprang back up after each footstep. He knows my history, she thought in anger. Doesn't he know this is akin to torture?

He didn't move, but she watched his eyes track her, back and forth, back and forth. She knew he wasn't afraid of her, but he was evaluating her reaction; Vampires didn't have the anger issues that came hand-in-hand with some species of Immortal. The more she heard, the faster and more agitated her pacing became. Her large strides took her quickly from one side of the office to another. Through her anger, she could no longer see the slashes of orange and pink sunset through the picture window, though it cast a feeble, sickly light across her face.

"Of all the people you could pair me with, why on Earth would you put me with him?" Her voice was full of venom.

"Both you and Colton were up for promotion. But you're the one that got it." His statement was bland.

She spun around to face him. "But, he's a Wolf, for God's sake!"

Lacey didn't have anything against the Undead, being one herself, and she hadn't worked often with Colton Scarber, so she had nothing against the man himself. But her kind, as a rule, didn't trust easily, and had long been mortal enemies of Werewolves, due to a dispute the origins of which had been lost long ago. She couldn't imagine working with one for a few days or a week on a case, much less bring one under her wing and trust her life to it!

Lacey stopped pacing, turning and staring out the office window as the light faded over the city she was empowered to protect and serve, but seeing none of it. The sensation of 'someone walking over her grave' seeped into her, and she shivered as the emotion of fear washed over her. The long, erratic scars on her right shoulder and arm remained a constant reminder of the fangs and claws of a Wolf, and she rubbed the uneven surface of the scar as if to scrub away the memories associated with it. Her coven had been destroyed almost five centuries ago, and she alone had survived the attack.

She thought Wilson understood the battle raging inside her, for he kept silent as Lacey fought to control her emotions and instincts. Having worked the streets with her for so long, the man had earned not only her respect but her trust as well. And trust was something that Lacey rarely did. She knew he suspected she had post-traumatic stress disorder after the incident that almost took her life, and was grateful to him for not pressing the issue. When she had regained control of herself the best that she could, she turned to face him once more.

He spoke before she could voice any other objections. "No one's even sure if this type of unit will work out." His voice held a touch of kindness. "But if anyone can make it work, I have every confidence that you can." Hearing the dismissal in his voice, she turned and left the office.

Too bad I don't have that confidence in myself, she mused as she returned to her tiny office on the other side of the bullpen. The bare, stingy room, at the moment, had no door to slam, though she had been hounding the drones in maintenance about it for six months now. Instead she kicked at the rickety desk chair in frustration. With a creak of sticky wheels, the chair rolled about four inches before coming to a halt.

The office smelled stale, as it always did; the filtration system in the building was old and over-burdened with the scents of old coffee, leather duty belts, and often unclean suspects. Her sensitive nose, as always, picked up the coppery smell of human blood, a scent that would forever plague her. To give herself a moment to settle, she sat at her desk and thought about history as she had experienced it.

~~"Wolves cannot be trusted. There remains too much of the animal in them." She clearly heard Aegon's voice, though he was turned away from her, busy at his work table. "Just remember that."~~

The Undead, a mixture of Immortal species such as Vampires, Werewolves, and many more had, certainly, been around as long as humans, but their numbers at the beginning of recorded time were low enough to conceal them from society. Of course, there had always been rumor and myth surrounding these supernatural beings, often morphing into fairy tale nightmares about monsters drinking blood or stealing souls, sometimes told to frighten misbehaving children. At first, the Undead could be passed off as legends. Eventually, however, the number of Undead individuals had become too great for humanity to ignore.

Later, the passing of the Undead Registry was an attempt by governments to track and control all of the many Immortal species. At first, anyone deemed Undead was required to undergo rigorous medical and genetic testing, and their DNA was downloaded into a database so they could quickly be identified. For a long time, the ruling classes of the world's governments had also maintained a group of 'volunteers' used for research and testing purposes.

These days, the Immortals, or Undead, while accepted by the general public, still suffered prejudice from humans, similar to the bias endured by any variety of minorities throughout recorded history. Yes, they had equal rights, that is, until they went looking for a job, a promotion, or even a decent education. And human parents never wanted their children to bring home a member of the Undead, it just wouldn't be proper!

With a sigh, Lacey stood. Guess I have to break the news now. Part of the perks of being the boss?

She stuck her head out the office door, looking in the direction of numerous tiny, boxed cubicles where officers from the Major Crimes unit went about their duties. "Colton!"

He looked up with a jerk, as if she had caught him in the act of playing hooky. When she waved him in the direction of her office, he scowled at her.

Untangling his long, muscular body from his desk chair, he shook his mane of thick, slightly wavy black hair away from his face, causing it to fall down to his shoulders. He always wore it loose, not bothering to tie it back at the neck. Not even close to regulation. I don't know why they let him get away with that! It wasn't the first time a similar thought had come to mind. But she knew when to pick her battles, and at the moment, this was not one she was ready to start. But I'll be remembering this later.

His shoulders were wide and muscular, and his arms were bulging under the sleeves of his casual shirt. His skin was the color of creamed coffee, and it seemed to her that he had a perpetual five o'clock shadow of dark, coarse-looking hair. His entire body was built like a linebacker. He walked with an odd gait common among Wolves; he padded on the balls of his feet, his knees slightly bent, his heels never striking the floor. It gave him the appearance of being ready to pounce at any moment. It amazed her that he was able to move his bulky body on the tiptoes of small feet so out of proportion to the rest of him.

Wishing she had a door to close to ensure even a modicum of privacy, Lacey decided to get it over with quickly, like removing a bandage stuck to the skin. She put the desk between them, both as a precaution and as a prop, and rested her hands on the back of the chair.

His dark brown eyes bored into hers. "Yeah?" His voice was sullen with a hint of impatience.

"I've just been informed of some reassignments."

"You're kidding me?" He threw up his hands as if in frustration. "What, are they shipping me off to Parking Violations or some crap?"

"Since the Equal Opportunity Law has changed, they have plenty of Zombies pulling that duty. You know as well as I do that they're not good for much else." That earned her a wry chuckle. "No, this is going to be something new. Some smart ass upstairs decided to put together a special unit of Undead, specifically to work cases dealing with either victims or perps who are Immortals."

"Wow! Never thought I'd see the day. So, they're sending me to this unit?"

"Both of us, actually." With an imperceptible movement, her hands tightened on the chair back. "I've been promoted, and you'll be my second."

On alert for the hair-trigger temper of a Wolf, she stood her ground while he choked and sputtered, almost gasping for breath, his face turning a bright shade of red, until he finally howled outright in anger. For a brief moment, the entire bullpen outside her office fell silent. But everyone was used to his frequent outbursts, and the normal chatter of a roomful of cops soon resumed as if nothing had ever happened.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton felt the boil of his blood as he struggled to control himself. Even though he could turn to a Wolf only with the cycle of the full moon (unlike a Shifter who could turn at will into their Animal), his mind and body still retained Wolf-like characteristics even while in his human form. They usually had anger management issues, and his temper was worse than most. He had often been praised by his father and mother; traditionally, among Wolves, this facet of their personalities had been encouraged rather than repressed. He grunted and sputtered, and didn't care who might hear.

Every male Wolf wants to be an Alpha, at the top of the pack, instead of taking orders from another. Especially a female. Especially a vamp female. It wasn't embarrassment over his earlier outburst of howling that angered him; that reaction to anger was common among Wolves. No, it was the fact that he would have to answer to a woman that had his temper soaring out of his control.

Body trembling with fury, he stared at his co-worker for a long time. She stood motionless, as if she were carved out of a slab of marble, arms crossed over her chest. Her pale skin looked pasty next to the dark blue of the pressed cotton shirt she wore. The grayish color of a ragged series of scars was visible trailing from under the right sleeve. Her exotically-slanted, ice-blue eyes, unblinking, stared into his, and her shorter-than-shoulder-length blonde hair was bobbed as straight and neat as a pin. She faced him down as if she felt no fear, but he knew that she must; how could one have gone through what she did and not feel a touch of fear when confronted with her enemy? And a furious enemy, at that?

God knows why they'd partner me up with a vamp! Especially this one, knowing her history. She'd rather put a knife in my back than work with me! As if I had anything to do with it! To give himself time to rein in his anger, he paced to the open doorway, leaning his weight on the wooden frame, gazing out into the bullpen without seeing it. His hands were fisted at his sides, and he took several deep breaths, as he'd been taught in anger management classes, though at the time, he'd thought the classes were trivial and useless.

When he could speak in a civil manner again, he turned to face her. Guess I need to start thinking of her as my boss, for Christ's sake! She still hadn't moved a muscle. Unnerving, that way Vampires have of being perfectly still. That's just not natural!

"So, when is this big change?" It took all his effort to keep his voice even.

"They'd like to have it set up by the beginning of next week." She stepped out from behind the desk, perhaps feeling the need for a buffer was gone. "We won't even need to move to another department, we can stay right here in Major Crimes."

"Well, what's the deal? I mean, anyone can investigate crimes against any of the Undead. Techniques remain the same. Why form a special unit?" He remained where he was, leaning on the door frame as if for support.

She shook her head. "We're all aware that there's a certain...challenge in dealing with Immortal crimes. Especially when it comes to the judicial case after we've passed them on."

"There's no such thing as a 'jury of your peers' when you're talking about Immortals." His lips curled with the sneer.

"Well, regardless." She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn't make a difference to her. "I think this is just an experiment to bring up the number of 'solveds' involving Undead individuals. You know, something to make the department appear more politically correct. I mean, next year is an election year."

"But the investigation of the case is no different whether it's involving humans or Undead."

She raised a hand. "That's not always true. After all, we're more likely to talk to another Undead, even of a different species, than we are to humans."

He could see her point; he'd felt the same way himself, and many times. Still, he wasn't happy to know that she had gotten the promotion he'd been expecting, but, as a lieutenant, she would now be his superior officer in a new unit he wanted nothing to do with. Unless, of course, he was put in charge of it. Again, his anger boiled and he paced. The cramped confines of the office didn't allow much room, and his strides brought him from one side of the room to the other in a few steps.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't like this any more than you do. And the commander's not even sure if it'll work. More than likely, after a few months when nothing's really changed, things will go back to normal and we'll be back in Major Crimes." She said it as if she believed that it would.

"So what are they calling this new specialty unit?" He held his chin up in disdain, a subtle behavioral sign of defiance that he suspected she picked up on.

"What else could they call it?" She answered with a wry grin on her lips, hinting at amusement. "The Undead Unit, of course."

# 2

Their first case came in a mere two nights after the official and formal formation of the Undead Unit. Lacey was in her office, initialing paperwork from the last cases she'd supervised before her promotion, when her aide, David, stuck his head into her doorway.

"Call for you."

"What?" She looked up from her work, distracted.

"Dispatch." He scratched his head. "They're on the phone. Line one." She often wondered what phenomenon caused all Zombies to sound like they'd just climbed out of the Everglades with a mouthful of mud. Or perhaps it's the fact that they dug themselves up out of their own graves?

"Thanks." She snatched the phone from its cradle. "Lieutenant Anderson."

"We have a call for you, lieutenant." The woman had an unfamiliar voice. "A domestic disturbance. Uniforms are already on the scene."

With the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, she grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pen, jotting down the address and all the information dispatch had gathered from the call. With a groan, she noticed that the complainant was a Wolf, and her boyfriend was a Shifter.

Well, I gotta break Colton in as a partner sooner or later, she thought. Might as well take him along on this one, rather than one of the human officers. Gotta get to know him, to see if I can trust him. But a Wolf! She shuddered at the thought of him watching her back.

Securing her weapon's shoulder harness and shrugging into the pale blue jacket she had slung over the back of her chair, she walked out of the office and waved at her new second-in-command, and partner. She was grateful again that her new position didn't require her (or her men) to wear the hideous and unflattering uniform of the street cops.

"Let's roll, we've got a case."

He fell into step behind her as they left the cavernous building housing the Dallas Police Department, his slow pace showing his reluctance to go out on a case with her. Several times, she forced herself to look behind her, to ensure he was still following her.

Out in the parking ramp, Lacey walked to a sleek, liquid black Audi S4 sport sedan; after her promotion, she had been offered one of the department's Chargers, an ugly, wannabe sports car with blackened windows, cheap rims, and LED police warning lights not well-hidden in many places. She had refused and continued to use her personal vehicle, which was within company policy. She had portable lights and a built-in siren; that was all the flash she cared to have.

Before approaching the car, Lacey hit the button on the remote in her hand to disarm the alarm system and unlock the doors; otherwise, anyone within the car's pre-set perimeter would earn a nasty electric shock. Colton held back a moment, as if impressed by her choice of vehicle. He let out a quick whistle of appreciation.

"That's some ride you've got there."

The windows were tinted so dark it was impossible to see through them. The vehicle had soft, rounded curves that encouraged the eye to follow them, and shiny chrome in all the right places. Four chromed rings were centered in the flat black grille, giving the appearance of teeth in a dark mouth, and the headlights became eyes, forming the 'face' of the car. Five-spoke chrome rims held low-profile tires, and a slight spoiler curved gently upwards from the trunk. Sexy ground effects trailed along the side from front tire to back tire. The car's deep black paint job gleamed even in the fading daylight, and Lacey's hyper-sensitive senses could always pick up the feeling of static from the vehicle's anti-theft features.

"I like it." She leaned into the car and pulled a stack of files off the passenger seat, tossing them into the back so he could sit. She never had company in her car. He adjusted the seat to fit his bulky stature and settled into the soft, gray leather. She gave an inward grimace. Her ride would forever stink of Wolf from this moment on. Nothing to be done about it.

The engine started with a low purr, masking the power of the 400-horsepower, supercharged 3.0 V-6 engine tucked under its hood. The interior was the epitome of luxury, with wood-grain dash and accents, and when the lights came on, the inside lit up like the cockpit of a jet. The in-dash computer between the seats was softly lit, awaiting instruction from the driver. The red LED lights were designed not to interfere with the night vision of humans, but were also less annoying to the sharp eyes of a Vampire than the white light most often used in vehicles.

Not bothering with auto drive, Lacey zoomed down the parking lot's ramp in manual mode, the sporty car with its powerful and throaty engine more than satisfying her need for speed. It was past rush hour; traffic was heavy but at least the cars were still moving. She zipped into the left-hand lane of the highway and continued to make quick lane changes as she wound her way through traffic. The engine never strained though she was driving close to 100 miles per hour.

"So, what's the call?" Colton's silky voice broke the silence.

"DD." She made another lane change, barely glancing over her shoulder to verify she had a clear lane. "Your kind, sort of."

"Wolves? Or Shifters?" Humans often didn't understand the difference.

"One of each." She never took her eyes from the road. Yet she saw Colton fidgeting out of the corner of her eye, and mentally dared him to try and touch the radio or adjust the climate control. He'd be lucky if she just broke his fingers.

"This should be interesting." His right hand held a death grip on the "chicken stick", the small, retractable handle above the passenger side window. "That's the most unlikely pairing I've ever heard of."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I brought you along."

"Nice to know I'm good for something." Lacey didn't have to look at his face to pick up on the sarcasm.

She grunted as she took the off-ramp at top speed, and slowed as she pulled into a residential area. Homes and apartment buildings were crammed together, stingy strips of grass the only lawn. Lacey couldn't understand how people could live here, almost right on top of their neighbors. She was again grateful for her own house, on its ten acres full of trees and rolling hills. From her windows she couldn't even see any neighboring homes, much less hear anything from them unless she tried. Or they were throwing a raucous party, which was, of course, too low-class for them to even consider.

Her partner, on the other hand, probably preferred to live in an area similar to this. With his pack mentality, he'd go crazy if he lived away from the bustle and press of people. Wolves enjoyed the company of their own kind, and multi-generational homes were commonplace among them. For that reason, domestic disturbances were one of the rarest of crimes among the caste of Wolves.

Lacey pulled up to the house and blocked the driveway; she had made this a habit after a call several years ago during which the suspect had escaped custody and led them on a high-speed chase through the city. A bland-looking tan and white patrol car was sitting at the curb. She and Colton got out of the car, and she flicked the remote, locking the doors and setting the alarm.

The front door of the tiny house had been left open, but she still knocked and announced their arrival. "Dallas police!" She nudged the door open with her foot, her right hand resting on the weapon nestled under her left arm. When she entered the living room, she saw a uniformed officer handing a glass of water to a petite, plump young woman. Her face was streaked with tears and her red hair was in disarray. She had a crumpled tissue in her lap.

"Lieutenant Anderson," she introduced herself as the officer stepped toward them.

"Ma'am," he acknowledged her rank with a straightening of his shoulders. "My partner has the other half in the kitchen." He nodded toward a short hallway. She locked eyes with Colton, then jerked her head in that direction. He paused just long enough to convey his displeasure, then moved down the hall in silence.

"Miss, what's your name?" Ignoring Colton's defiance, at least for now, Lacey crouched down in front of the woman, to appear less intimidating as she spoke.

The woman sniffled and caught her breath. "Missy. Melissa Tompson."

"Can you tell me what happened, Missy?"

She wiped her face with the tattered tissue. "I--it all happened so fast. He came home and I guess he'd been drinking." Her voice wavered. "I was just about to put dinner on the table, and I-- I guess it wasn't fast enough for him. So he hit me." Her hand went to her left cheek, where the angry red imprint of a hand was becoming visible and just beginning to bruise.

"And did you hit him back?" Given the innate nature of Wolves in general, and her knowledge of a few in particular, Lacey assumed that Missy would have retaliated.

"No, no." She shook her head. "I've always been able to control my temper, even before I took the anger management classes." She smiled with a wry grin. "My dad always said he was disappointed in me." Lacey nodded, understanding how a calm Wolf in a culture that encouraged violence would be an enigma.

Though she was surprised to discover that the assailant in this case was not the Wolf but the Shifter, she didn't mention it. "Did he hit you more than once?" Missy shook her head again. "Well, he'll be going to jail tonight for simple assault. I can get you in touch with a departmental counselor if you'd like. Are you married?"

"No, but we've been together for so long it didn't really seem to matter anymore."

"He's got no right to hit you." Lacey looked right into her eyes to hammer the point home. "If you're scared to leave him, we can get you a protective order. All you have to do is come down to the department." Reaching into her pocket, Lacey handed the woman a card. "You let me know if there's anything I can do to help you."

"Thank you. I'm hoping this will all blow over like a bad dream." She wiped at her tear-streaked face.

Lacey, knowing how domestic violence of any kind left scars on the psyche, knew it wouldn't just blow over, but would rear its ugly head time and time again, and left her to the uniform. She walked into the kitchen to interview the Shifter. Hunched over a small dining table was a sinewy man with long brown hair. His hands were cuffed behind his back. Fists held tight to his hips, Colton stood with feet set wide, his bulk seeming to hover over the suspect, a look of barely-contained anger in his eyes. When he caught sight of Lacey, he stepped aside and turned his back on the culprit.

"What's his story?" With a glance she included both Colton and the uniform in her question.

The uniform glanced at Colton, in that one look deferring to him to answer.

"He admits it, says he's been drinking. He was pissed that dinner wasn't on the table when he walked in, and he slapped her." Colton reported without looking at the suspect.

"I didn't mean to hurt her!" The handcuffs rattled as the remorseful man shifted in his chair. "I don't know what came over me! I feel bad about doing it, now. I love her!"

"Well, I'm afraid you're coming with us tonight." Lacey's voice was scathing.

"I know." Shame was evident in the man's tone. "I deserve it."

"What's your Animal?"

"Fox." His head still hung, his demeanor a parallel to the shy yet crafty animal he could become.

Lacey nodded to the uniform, who helped the man to his feet and perp-walked him out to the car. Lacey and Colton followed, and watched until the man was secured into the back of the patrol car. The second uniform rejoined his partner.

"Take him in," Colton instructed. "We'll meet you there." He turned to Lacey. "Are you done here?"

"I've got everything I need. This one feels like an open-and-shut case."

"Don't say that, you might jinx it!" Colton laughed in a humorless way.

"Come on, we've got paperwork to do."

They returned to the department, and saw to it that the remorseful Shifter was surrendered into the hands of the drones in Booking. Lacey left strict instructions on the type of cell he was incarcerated in; a Fox could slip through the bars of the standard cells with ease.

They went to their respective work places in the Major Crimes unit. After just a few minutes, Lacey, as usual, handed all the case information on a memory card to her aide, David, to file in the computer database. In the meantime, she had the other cases to look over and sign off on.

God, I hate doing this crap, she thought. And the computers don't help, all they do is make MORE work for us to do! Disgusted, she gave the cluttered pile a shove. What we need is a good old-fashioned case. The kind we can't close in fifteen minutes.

Colton's voice echoed in the back of her mind, you might jinx it! It was fortunate that she wasn't quite as superstitious as Wolves were. But that might prove to be her undoing.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton was more than happy to be going home just five minutes past the end-of-shift. He'd put in too many long hours and days during his time with the Major Crimes Unit, and it didn't seem as if that would get any better with the formation of the Undead Unit. Because a lot of the Undead were nocturnal, he had a feeling his biological clock was about to turn around.

So he wanted to spend every moment possible with his beautiful wife, Becca, and their pups. The kids were now six months old, just big enough to be getting into tons of trouble and hassling their mother. As he climbed into his aging pickup truck for the ride home, a smile crossed his face as he wondered what antics they had been up to today.

Peace washed over him as he pulled up to his building. He didn't mind spending the day surrounded by people, but they weren't his kind. His brownstone apartment was in a building tenanted by Wolves. Many of the families were related to each other in some manner. Being around those of his own kind made Colton relax after putting in a long day of protecting and serving.

Becca greeted him at the door, carrying a child under each arm. The kids were struggling against her grip, attempting to reach one another to continue a fight she had obviously just broken up. Her soft, round face lit up and she gave him a quick kiss before turning her attention back to the rambunctious children she was holding.

"Now, you're both in time-out, and if you come out before I say you can, you'll be in worse trouble. Go." She set them down on their feet and gave each a quick slap to the rear, sending them off in the direction of the bedrooms. She glanced into the living room where the sounds of other children could be heard. "How was your day, honey?" Her voice was musical.

"First case today." He was cheerful as the smells of home invaded his extraordinary senses. He twitched his nose, double-checking that nothing smelled amiss since he'd left earlier that morning.

Her face clouded over for an instant. "Oh?" Biting her lip, she seemed unsure if the news was good or bad.

He swept her up in his arms and gave her a much more passionate kiss than before. Besides the usual scents of home, her unique pheromones filled his nose, and he breathed deeply of her smell of honey and baking bread. It was always the best part of coming home. "Domestic dispute, a Wolf and a Shifter. The Shifter broke down and admitted to it before we even got there. Open and shut."

"Well, I guess that's good, then." She walked with sinewy grace to the kitchen where the smell of cooking food permeated the air. They ate pretty much what they had eaten as humans, but now preferred their meat a bit raw. With a side of animal hearts.

He followed, enjoying watching the sway of her hips as she moved. She went to the stove to resume her cooking. He made himself comfortable at the small dining table tucked into the corner of the room and watched her.

She was a little on the plump side, something to be expected after having given birth to a litter of five, but in his opinion, there was just more of her to love. Her golden-red hair was a riot of curls that tended to frizz, and he noticed with amusement several long strands sticking up as if she had been trying to tear her hair out. With the five kids at home all day, he imagined she might have thought about it. If you could look up the phrase 'frazzled mother' in the dictionary, it was possible that you would find her picture there.

"I did get to work the case with Anderson, though." He sniffed the aromatic air in appreciation.

He saw the shudder move down her spine. "What was that like?" Her voice held a hint of fear.

"She's not all bad." He leaned back in the chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle. "She drives a bad-ass car, that's for sure!"

She turned to glare at him. "Colton Scarber, you watch your language around those kids! You know they all want to be just like daddy!"

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Do you think she knows? I mean, about, you know?" There was a nervous tone to her voice.

"Greece?" He finished the thought for her. "I don't see how she couldn't know. She was there. But she didn't mention it."

Though Colton, a born rather than bitten Wolf, hadn't experienced it, the incident was imprinted on his brain as part of his Pack instincts. They had evolved a kind of racial memory and any information his ancestors had known was available to him. That same knowledge would be passed down to his kids, and their kids, forever down his bloodline.

"Well, I certainly hope she doesn't blame you for it. You weren't even born yet."

"I know it. But it does make it a little tense to work around her."

"What are you going to do?" Becca wondered.

"I'll see how things go. If nothing else, I could request a transfer. But I'd like to stick it out. I think it's a good opportunity."

"If you think you can handle it, you know I support you."

From the other room came shouts and snarls, like the sounds of young puppies acting tough. Colton got up and went to the refrigerator, digging around until he found a bottle of beer. There was a sudden loud thump and a high-pitched yip from the living room, and they both turned in that direction.

"I'll get them," he said to her.

When he got to the living room he saw his other three kids, all sitting in silence on the floor about four feet apart. Two of them looked guilty, while tears welled up in the eyes of the third. He sat down in his cushy, well-worn and over-sized recliner, and beckoned to the child.

"Come here, Derek." The boy eagerly climbed into his father's lap while the other two looked on. "Were you playing too rough?"

"Ya Da-da."

"Where does it hurt?"

Derek pointed to his left arm, where a series of long, red scratches danced across the skin.

Rough play was common among Werewolf packs, and Colton remembered his fair share of wins (and losses) in scuffles with his own siblings. There was a fine line between encouraging the children's natural inclinations, yet preparing them for the anger management classes the government would soon impose on them.

"Well, you're a tough boy." Colton soothed the child, and ruffled the young boy's mop of dark hair with great affection. "You're going to grow up big and strong! And you two, don't be pestering your brother so much!" He glanced over at the others. The two children looked crestfallen at the scolding.

"All right now, come on. Give your daddy some love."

With excited squeals, the other boy and a girl launched themselves into his lap, where they all bounced up and down in manic excitement. The two who had been sent to the bedroom, and who had quietly crept down the hallway to eavesdrop, chanced their mother's wrath and joined the dog pile on their father's lap. Drool dribbled down chins and clumsy fingers clutched at him, but he couldn't have been any happier. He leaned back and crossed his ankles. This was the life.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

On the other side of town, Lacey could have been on a different planet as she raced down her long, curving driveway, pulling her expensive car into a three-car garage carpeted with earth-toned outdoor carpet. After 500 years, she'd gotten the house and property to reflect her personality and taste. Nestled into the lush woods in a strip of land almost unmarred by human touch, it was her perfect sanctuary.

She had money, and lots of it, saved up through the decades. The house and its property had long been paid off; there was only the yearly tax to be paid. She didn't use much electricity, and her water came from a well drilled behind the house. Lacey's living expenses were very low.

She spent money on lavish things for herself instead: expensive Turkish rugs, tasteful statues and artwork, music and movies on disc, and Chippendale furniture. Since she was doomed to an immortal life, she was damned well going to live it in as much comfort and decadence as she could.

Her window treatments tended toward the dark, not because she needed them that way but because she preferred them to be. Vampires could, contrary to the old popular belief, go outside in the daylight, though it tended to irritate their eyes and skin, like a human with poison ivy or a sunburn.

She opened the door to her haven, and with a grateful sigh, tossed her keys on a small wood table in the foyer. She punched her code into the alarm system panel beeping its soft tone near the door. The panel chimed twice to alert her that it was unarmed.

Without bothering to turn on the lights, finding her way with excellent night vision and the tiny night light she always left burning in the hallway, she made her way to the kitchen. It was a cavernous space filled with the best of commercial-grade appliances; Lacey could and did eat the same things that she did before she was 'Turned', while she was human, and she often enjoyed cooking extravagant meals for herself. In secret, she spent time watching the food channel to learn new recipes. But human food was not what she was after at the moment.

She opened the door of her stainless steel refrigerator, pulling out a packet of cold cow's blood. Since Vampires had to survive on blood, to keep the symbiotic virus in their systems fed, and since the laws prohibited them from feeding on humans, an arrangement had been made with meat packing plants all across the world. Humans had processed meat as food for centuries, but the blood had always been disposed of. It was a logical step for the meat providers to package, and by doing so profit from, what they had discarded before. It was the same for the Wolves and Zombies, who needed hearts and brains to survive.

It wasn't the best, in Lacey's opinion, more like the difference between ground beef and filet mignon, but it kept her fed. Even though the animal blood sustained her, it came with drawbacks; she wasn't as physically strong as when she dined on human blood, and more of her human frailties surfaced. She had, however, never gotten used to drinking it cold; the blood had to be kept chilled or it would spoil. She put the packet carefully into the top-of-the-line microwave and jabbed the preset start button. While the appliance was warming her meal with an audible hum, she took a crystal wine goblet out of the glass-door cabinet, and rinsed it in the gleaming three section sink.

When the timer went off, she pulled open the cap and poured the warmed blood into the wine glass. She carried her dinner into the living room and sat down on the plush couch. Setting the cup down on a coaster atop a cherry coffee table, she kicked off her boots and curled her legs underneath her.

"Screen, on. Soap channel."

The big screen television across the room flickered on. Though she'd rather die than admit it, she loved watching reruns of the hundred-year-old daytime drama series. She knew that many of the producers and directors behind the scenes when the dramatic shows had been filmed were Vampires. She'd even met a few of them. She took a sip from her glass and prepared to relax and spend the evening being entertained.

# 3

Something was buzzing in her ear. She made a half-hearted attempt to wave it away before she realized that it was her phone. She reached for it as her eyes snapped open, every sense alert now. Answering the phone, she put it on speaker.

"Anderson." Her voice didn't betray the fact that she'd been sleeping.

"Lieutenant, this is Carl with dispatch."

"What've you got?"

He gave her an address which she scrawled on a notepad she always kept on the nightstand. "The complainant was nearly hysterical when she called. Said she'd been walking home from work and was assaulted by a Wolf. I was going to call in SVU but I thought you might like to handle this one."

"I'll be there in ten minutes. Give Detective Scarber a call, tell him to meet me there."

"He's next on my list."

She climbed out of her king-sized, four poster bed and hurried to the walk-in closet. When she emerged, she was dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans with a button-up shirt tucked carefully into her waistband. She carried her boots, and after putting on a pair of socks, slid her feet into the supple leather. She slipped her weapon into the buttery leather of a belt holster, rather than using the shoulder harness she often carried while on duty.

She didn't bother turning on a light as she moved through the house. She grabbed her keys from the table in the foyer, set the alarm, and locked the door behind her.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Irritated, Colton swiped at the phone shrieking on his dresser. He was a heavy sleeper and tended to ignore the phone or shut off his alarm clock. Becca had suggested that he keep his phone on the other side of the room, so that he'd have to get up out of bed to answer it. The strategy worked, though nothing could make him like it. He glared at his reflection in the dresser's mirror, scowling as he noticed his hair sticking up in every direction.

He saw the caller ID on the phone's screen and groaned. The soft moonlight streaming in the window allowed him to see well enough to take down the address and particulars of the case. Turning back toward the bed, he noticed that Becca wasn't there. He assumed she was feeding the kids.

After he dressed, he crept from the bedroom. He found his wife on the couch in the living room, one arm curled around Emily, the smallest of the kids, as she nursed. She looked up at him when he stopped in the doorway.

"Call?" She kept her voice soft.

"Yeah. I don't know how long I'll be gone on this one." He saw that her eyes looked tired. Maybe he should call his mother, see if she could come lend a hand with the kids for a few days to give her a break. That's a good idea. He made a mental note to call on his mother sometime today.

"It's okay, honey. There's coffee in the kitchen if you want some."

"I think I will grab a mug. That sounds good." He leaned over to give her a kiss and brushed a hand across Emily's silky hair. He hated leaving his family in the middle of the night, but had accepted that fate when he'd taken the police officer's oath, and that was something he was very serious about.

He went into the kitchen and filled a travel mug with coffee, double-checking that the lid was screwed on tight. One time when he'd failed to do this, the cup fell out of the holder in his truck, and spilled all over the floorboard. Since then, he'd taken no chances.

Passing by the living room, he called out, "Love you. Get some sleep." With that, he locked the apartment door behind him and climbed into his truck.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Though she lived farther away, Lacey arrived on the scene close to downtown well before Colton, thanks to her fast car and her love of speed. Two cruisers sat nose-to-rear at the curb, and an EMS van was parked sideways, taking up two lanes. She could see that the uniforms were working to mark the crime scene with yellow police tape as well as directing traffic away from the area.

In the dimness of predawn, the red and blue strobes on the ambulance and squad cars spun a sickly mixture of light on the storefronts lining the street. Lacey approached the ambulance with care, keeping a sharp eye out for any evidence that might be in the street.

A young brunette sat on the bumper of the vehicle, wrapped in a white blanket of soft cotton. Her once-pretty face was pale and marred with marks just beginning to swell and bruise. Tears mixed with blood and ran down her cheeks.

Lacey flashed her badge, hoping to catch the victim in a state of mind conducive to an interview. The woman's eyes had not yet begun to glaze over with shock.

"I'm Lieutenant Anderson. Can you tell me your name?"

"Angelica." Her voice trembled on the whisper, her bruised and split lips barely moving.

Lacey bent down to meet her eyes. "I know this is difficult, but I want you to tell me what happened." She took out her electronic tablet.

The victim took a deep breath. "I was walking to the subway. I just live a few blocks from here." She extracted one arm from the blanket covering her and waved in the direction of numerous apartment complexes toward the north. "I always catch the early train, so I can get to work earlier than I need to. I don't like to be late."

Lacey nodded in understanding. The remains of the woman's tattered clothing and her overall demeanor told Lacey that Angelica was likely a responsible young person. "Then you were headed for that station there?" She indicated the street corner where stairs led down to the subway tunnels.

"Yeah." Angelica swiped a hand across her face as if trying to wipe away the memory of the attack. "This man, he jumped out of the shadows and pulled me into the alley. He was so strong! And he...he ripped my clothes, and then he started biting me! I thought maybe he was a Wolf." She lowered the blanket enough to bare one shoulder, where vivid bite marks still oozed blood. "I tried to fight, but he was too strong for me."

"We'll get that all cleaned up for you," one of the EMS workers told her.

"First I need a PERK done on her." Lacey snapped at him, referring to the Physical Evidence Recovery Kit that would gather any evidence from the victim. This kit would allow for recovery of blood, semen, hair, and even skin from under the victim's fingernails, assuming she had scratched her assailant at some point during the attack.

"Already got one started," the man told her. "But we'll do better to get her to the hospital, finish it up there."

The loud sound of a truck caught Lacey's attention, and she glanced over her shoulder as Colton parked his vehicle next to her car. Gently, she laid a hand on Angelica's uninjured shoulder. "They'll take good care of you. A PERK is stressful, but necessary. It will help us catch this jerk. I'll come see you in the hospital, okay?"

"Sure." Her voice was still shaky, and her eyes had begun to cloud over in an unseeing stare.

Lacey caught Colton as he strode in their direction. She wasn't sure how the victim would have reacted to yet another man close to her so soon after the attack. Especially a man who was also a Wolf. Together, they went to the alley, flashing badges at the uniform standing guard near the police tape. They signed the log, then ducked under the barrier to inspect the alley, slipping latex gloves onto their hands.

The scene of the attack was evident by the shreds of clothing strewn about. A crime scene tech was placing the larger pieces of cloth into brown paper bags, while another was taking photographs of the evidence and the plastic yellow markers from different angles. The foul smell of over-ripe garbage filled the stuffy air.

"Let me see that." Lacey demanded of the tech. She handed over a scrap of material that appeared to be part of a blouse. Blood stained the fabric, already turning to a brownish color as it dried. Lacey turned the cloth in her hands.

"Definitely torn." Colton commented as he looked over her shoulder. "I wonder if any of that blood's his."

"We're going to find out." Lacey handed the fabric back to the tech, who sealed it in a bag with evidence tape, and filled out the case information.

Lacey sat back on her heels and studied the scene. A few drops of blood spattered the concrete, and she felt all the fine hairs on her neck stand on end. Something isn't right here, she thought.

"Hey!" Colton's voice jarred her from her thoughts. He turned to the crime scene tech. "You got a pair of tweezers or something?"

She dug into her kit and handed him the long instrument used to collect hair and other evidence. He nudged Lacey aside, ignoring her warning snarl, and plucked a tiny bit of tissue from one of the blood droplets. They examined it up close. It didn't quite look like skin, and besides being covered in blood it was also dripping what looked like clear slime. "What is this?"

"I don't know." Lacey handed him a small plastic bag the tech had given her as she spoke. They sealed the tissue in the bag. "But I'll bet the lab will be able to tell us."

"Something's not right about this whole scene." Colton gave voice to her earlier thoughts.

"I thought the same thing." She used a cotton swab to take a sample of the blood stains. "But I just can't quite figure out what."

"Well, sexual assault is super rare among Wolves," he told her. "We usually mate for life and are very loyal to our mates."

"True, but rogue Wolves do happen." Lacey knew from experience that this was true. She narrowed her eyes, taking in the alley scene as if from an outsider's perspective. As her gaze passed over delivery entrances of stores and businesses, she noted security cameras over a few doors. "I really don't think it's a Wolf, either. There's something about it, something that's teasing the edges of my memory. Something that I can't quite identify."

"Maybe if you stop thinking about it for a while, it'll come back to you."

"Maybe. We'll work it as if we're looking for a Wolf as the victim claims, but we'll keep open minds as we get more information." She glanced over her shoulder at the crime scene techs as they left them to their work and walked back to the street. "I'm going to go interview the vic at the hospital, see if I can get more out of her. I'm sure she wouldn't be very cooperative if you were there, so why don't you go see if any of those security cams in the alley actually record, then head to the office and send me over a sketch artist."

"Got a preference?"

"Not really," she replied, her mind already outlining the questions she would soon be asking. "Send whoever's available."

"No problem." He took out his electronic tablet. "Share?"

With a flick of the finger, she transferred in an instant the details of her initial interview to Colton's tablet, grateful once again for the technology; she had horrible handwriting and often couldn't read her own written notes. Composing them electronically was far easier when it came time to write reports.

"I'll catch you in the bullpen when I get back." Lacey waved at him as she watched the ambulance drive away. The light of dawn peeking above the horizon was beginning to irritate the skin on her face. She was glad to get back into the blessed darkness of her vehicle to make the short drive to Medical City hospital.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton settled his over-sized frame in the cab of his pickup, mouthing a continuous tirade of inventive curses mixed with low growls. None of the security cameras close to the area of the attack were capable of recording the alley; their sole purpose in being there was so that the people inside could see who was ringing their buzzer. Figures. Everyone thinks they're the ONLY ones in the universe! Protect thine own and to hell with anyone else!

He could feel his muscles tightening and the thick hair on his arms was standing up. He trembled with the effort to rein in his temper, and the truck shook as he slammed the door shut harder than he'd meant to.

"Make us all look bad," he snarled as he started the engine. "Some asshat assaulting women minding their own business. We'll see about that."

With a roar, his truck lumbered into traffic, and he turned the radio up to an ear-shattering volume. It was one of the tricks his therapist had taught him during his required anger management courses. It did seem to help him soothe his anger, when he remembered to use it, which wasn't often. Facing the snarl of morning rush-hour traffic, he knew he needed the distraction.

When he arrived at the station, his temper had quieted to a slow boil. Rather than using the phone at his desk, he stopped by the Special Victims Unit, located on the opposite side of the building from his own Major Crimes unit. He knew that he'd be pretty much guaranteed to find one or more of the sketch artists in SVU, as much of their time was devoted to helping that unit identify their unsubs.

He was correct; he found three of the police department's most talented artists loitering in the SVU break room.

"It's a wonder anyone around here can find one of you when you're needed." His tone was a combination of stern and joking.

"The coffee machine in Forensics is broken," the lone woman of the group informed him. She was a short, petite brunette named Kelly who was extremely talented, not just in her drawing, but in getting a vic to open up and recall details. It was a good skill in her line of work. "We gotta have our java!"

The two men nodded agreement, holding up huge mugs of steaming liquid.

"Anderson needs one of you over at Medical City."

"I'll take winner," Kelly said. "Loser takes it!" The men groaned as they set their cups on the counter and squared off with one another. Colton was beginning to wonder if they were going to duke it out when they raised their right fists to one another.

Gary, the taller of the two men, shook his blond hair and threw a cocky smile toward Colton, then smacked his fisted right hand against his flat left palm. "One, two, three!" The other man mimicked his actions.

"Rock smashes scissors," Kelly cried with glee.

"Best two out of three," Gary insisted.

"No way." Kelly shoved him out of her way and took her place in front of Thomas, whose fisted hand still hovered in mid-air.

The game was repeated, and at the count of three, Kelly left her hand flat while Thomas' was still fisted.

"Yes! Paper covers rock!" Kelly crowed as she took her mug and turned to leave the small break area.

"Wait a minute," Gary called. "How did you know he would do 'rock' again?"

With a musical laugh, she told him, "Thomas always does rock. I've never seen him do anything else."

"Then you cheated! That ain't right!" Still chattering, the two headed toward the elevator, leaving a bewildered Colton staring open-mouthed at Thomas.

"What was that all about?" Colton managed to ask the question as Thomas tightened the lid on the cup he had just topped off.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors?"

Colton shook his head. "What in hell is that?"

"It's a kid's game. Ask Anderson, maybe she'll know."

"As if." He snorted in amusement. "She doesn't have any kids!"

"She's over at Medical now?"

"Yeah, she was going to do a follow-up with the vic. The attack just happened about an hour ago."

"Good, she'll be fresh." Thomas meant the victim's memory would still be sharp, increasing his chances of getting good details from her. "Adios," he called over his shoulder.

Colton shook his head in amazement as he returned to his department and sat at his desk. Every time he thought he had figured out the humans and their interactions with each other, something like this silly 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' thing threw him a curve ball. Who even thinks up stupid crap like that, anyway?

He pulled out his tablet, and sent Lacey a short text message: Thomas on his way. Then, cursing the desk chair for being so damn uncomfortable, he pulled his laptop in front of him. Laboriously, the machine clicked and clacked and then flashed the notice that it was booting up. He hated technology; why was it that the humans were always trying to improve on good old pen and paper? After all, your ink pen would either work or it wouldn't, and would never give you any lip.

With a loud sigh, he wracked his brain trying to remember where the hell the IT guys had stuck the blank report file. It seemed like every time he turned around, they were doing more 'upgrades' to the computer system, and though they claimed the upgrades would lead to a more user-friendly format, it seemed like they did it just to piss him off. Finally finding the correct icon, he clicked it and settled in to begin his report.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey rolled her shoulders as she prepared to step inside the hospital's emergency room doors. She hated hospitals, and always had to steel herself whenever she had to interview a witness or victim inside the hallowed, sterile walls. The humans, with their limited olfactory sense, would never notice, but it didn't matter how much disinfectant was used on walls and floors, it still smelled like blood.

She was sired, for lack of a better term, by an ancient coven. She had to think long and hard to remember her human life before she had been 'Changed'. Even though she'd started surviving on animal blood long before the Undead Registry had been passed, she had consumed human blood. She compared it to humans addicted to heroin or methamphetamines; it was a craving that could never be satiated.

No matter how many times she might step through these doors, or others like them, that first whiff was always the strongest. Her stomach growled as if in anticipation. With stoic resolve, she strode right to the nurses' station and slapped her badge on the counter. A small shoulder kit held all the things that she might need to use to collect evidence from her victim.

A young and harried-looking patient care tech looked up with the unfocused look of someone sleep-deprived. She had a mass of golden hair piled into a high bun. Several tendrils of hair had escaped the pins, and she swiped away the locks with an impatient wave of her hand. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, and heart-shaped lips. Her eyes tracked from the badge to Lacey's face and back again before her eyes sharpened in focus.

"Oh! They said I should be expecting...someone." Her unvoiced thought might have run along the lines of "someone human". She leaned away from Lacey in unconscious recoil. Lacey was unperturbed. This was a reaction she'd grown accustomed to seeing in humans unexpectedly exposed to her. "You'll be wanting Exam Room 6." She pointed in the general direction of the emergency room wards, though Lacey was familiar enough with the layout to know right where to go. "I think the doctor might have just gone in."

"Thank you." Lacey's polite statement was as automatic and unconscious as the young human's fear response had been, and was as bland as a computer voice.

With long strides, she moved down the dull gray hallways, her boots making no sound on the scrubbed and polished tile floor. People bustled about, some visitors, others were obvious medical staffers going about their duties. All those approaching Lacey head-on discreetly moved as far away as the hall would allow. This, too, was something she was well used to seeing.

Before she rounded a corner in the direction of room 6, she heard the shrieks. High-pitched and shrill to her sensitive ears, it was the sound of a woman in sheer terror. Nurses in scrubs hurried past her, some even brushing against her, in their haste not even noticing what she was. They descended upon room 6, where her victim was to be examined. She picked up her pace.

When Lacey entered the room, Angelica was curled up in a corner of the tiny space, both hands fisted in her hair, her arms shielding her face. The woman was terrified and continued to scream. A dark and handsome man in the green scrubs of a doctor was attempting to slide out the door as the nurses rushed to their patient. His gaze latched onto Lacey.

She jerked her head to the side, indicating that he should step into the hallway with her. He hesitated a brief moment, seeming torn between his duty to the patient and his desire to escape, even for a moment, from the terror and screams. Escape won, and he pulled the door shut behind him.

"Doctor Matthews." He stuck his hand out, surprising her. It was obvious that she was a Vampire, and most people wouldn't offer to shake hands unless she offered first, shaming them into it.

"Lieutenant Anderson. What happened?" Lacey's tone suggested that he better answer up, and answer well enough to suit her.

He shook his head as if to clear it. "I had just stepped into the room," he began in a halting manner. "I knew she was an assault vic, and more than likely raped, so I had her nurse ask her if she minded a male doctor, and she said she didn't. Nurse Calloway noted it in her chart." He said this last as if to convince her that his actions were complete and well-documented.

"I understand." Lacey softened her voice. She knew as well as anyone else the strain doctors, especially those in an E.R. rotation in one of the city's largest and most-stressed hospitals, would be feeling. "Go on."

"Well, I walked in with her chart." He indicated the tablet he still held in his hand. "She took one look at me and started screaming bloody murder. I never even had the chance to get a word out!"

Lacey looked at the young man a little closer. Gaunt face, straight black hair, deep dark eyes, these were all characteristics that could be applied to large numbers of the human population. But she sensed there was more to it than that. "You're a Reaper, aren't you?"

Reapers could pass for ordinary humans, even eat and drink the same things, and were almost always one of the lowest demographics as far as committing crimes went. But as a group, they were one of the few Undead species that the humans had tried to ban from citizenship status.

Because Reapers sustained themselves by harvesting human souls (though they didn't consume them, just sent them on their way, while keeping some of their released energy), humans in general had been adamant against granting them Registry status. A few high-level and influential Reapers had succeeded, after a long political battle, in gaining admittance to the Registry for all of their species.

They tended to be highly intelligent and gifted for medical services; Reapers could be found in emergency rooms, health care clinics, and as EMS workers all across the world, and they excelled. Lacey always thought this made it even more difficult for humans to trust or interact with them. After all, would you want to be in a car accident and have a Reaper EMS attendant, not knowing if your number would soon be up?

They both glanced at the closed door as the wailing inside subsided. "I told them to give her a sedative." His voice sounded relieved. "I knew someone would be coming to talk to her, so it's nothing too strong. Maybe I can even examine her now. Did you talk to her in the field?"

"Yes. I told her I'd see her here."

"Good. Maybe with you in the room, she'll feel a bit safer." That's ironic, the Vampire and the Reaper will try to make the human feel safe!

The nurses left the room, dimming the lights by half on their way out. Cautiously, Dr. Matthews poked his head into the door. With a quick hand gesture at Lacey, he stepped inside. She followed.

Angelica was back on the exam table, wrapped in a thin white blanket. She was much calmer, but Lacey noticed that she was trembling. Her entire body seemed to sigh in relief when she saw Lacey.

"You're here," she whispered in disbelief.

"I told you I would be. Didn't you believe me?"

Tears had dried dirt and blood into a thick cake on her cheeks, and her disheveled hair moved a bit as she shook her head. "Well, I don't know. I thought maybe that was just something you said. You know, how people do."

"When I say I'm going to do something, I mean to do it." Lacey spoke with conviction.

"Okay, I get that."

The doctor had watched in silent patience, until Lacey beckoned to him. "This is Dr. Matthews. He needs to examine you." Angelica shivered violently. "Will you let him?"

"Can I have a blanket?" Her voice sounded like that of a young child. "I'm so cold."

"It's always cold in hospitals," Dr. Matthews said with a soothing tone. "But we can't give you a blanket just yet. We need to collect evidence, and that will include the sheets you're using now."

The young woman looked at Lacey. "He's right. Once we get everything we can get, we'll let you take a nice hot shower and get you something warm to wear."

The doctor stepped to a thermostat. "I'll turn this up a little, for now. Will you let me examine you? We don't have any female doctors available right now but we could call one."

"Then I'll have to wait even longer?" He nodded. "Will you stay?" She asked of Lacey.

"Glad to," Lacey told her, stepping closer to the side of the small exam table.

As Dr. Matthews stepped closer, Angelica shivered again. "You're not here for...you're not..." Her teeth seemed to chatter and she couldn't finish her sentence.

"No, I don't have a writ for you." His voice held an amused tone. Lacey assumed he'd been asked similar questions countless times.

It appeared to soothe the young woman, and she nodded to the doctor. Lacey took a digital camera out of her kit, and began snapping pictures from different angles as the doctor began his exam. He had a gentle touch that seemed to settle Angelica even more. Lacey handed him a small paper ruler shaped like an L, which he held up to various wounds on the victim's face and shoulders as a measurement while Lacey continued to photograph. "This one might need some stitches," he remarked, pointing to a very vivid bite on her left cheek, and another on her shoulder. "This one, too."

Lacey took wide-angle and close shots of both wounds. The doctor checked for indications of broken bones in her face, skull, and arms. Then, he stripped his latex gloves off inside out, and handed them to Lacey, going to the station hanging over the room's door for a fresh pair. The blood on the fluid-slicked gloves would be tested, in case some of it belonged to the assailant. When he returned, he glanced at Lacey.

Without a word, she handed him a small paper envelope, like those used once upon a time at bank drive-through windows. He unsealed the flap and pulled out an orangewood stick, the same kind a person could get in the manicure section of any store. It was pointed on one end like a toothpick, the other end beveled at an angle.

Angelica turned away from the doctor as he carefully scraped under her nails, collecting any material that might have lodged there. The stick went into the envelope too, and all was sealed inside as per protocol.

Lacey reached for the last bundle of evidence collection bags and vials. This was the most difficult part of a PERK kit, for the victim as well as the examiner. As Dr. Matthews put on yet another pair of fresh gloves, Lacey stepped closer to Angelica.

"This is going to be the hardest part," she said, trying to make her voice soothing. She laid a hand on the woman's arm, wishing that she could at least offer some warmth. Angelica's skin was clammy even to her touch.

"I know what you have to do. Just get it over with!"

Dr. Matthews instructed her to shift position so that he could examine her vaginally. Lacey always wondered about this; she knew women went in for regular exams to check for cancer and other health issues. But she could never figure out how a woman wouldn't feel debased and exposed in such a position, bared from the waist down, feet in metal stirrups and legs parted wide. Angelica turned to stare at the wall. Lacey left her hand on the woman's arm, offering what comfort she could.

"Definite lacerations here," the doctor said, his voice muffled through the sheet draped over Angelica's midriff. "Blood too." He handed Lacey a cotton-tipped swab sealed in a plastic vial. This, she initialed with date and time and placed with care in her case. "Do you have a pair of sterile tweezers?"

She took a pair from the kit and, after removing the packaging, handed the tool to him. "What do you have?"

"Some tissue but I don't think it's hers. Has a strange look to it. Nothing I've ever seen before."

She felt the hair on her neck stand on end, and again she had the sensation that she knew something, but it remained just out of her grasp. When the doctor held up the piece of tissue, she opened a glass jar so he could drop it inside. This she filled with a solution of formalin that would "fix" the tissue so it could be examined and tested later on.

"You won't need stitches there," Dr. Matthews told the woman when he had collected all the evidence he could find. "But you'll be a little sore for a couple of days, especially when you urinate. Using wet toilet wipes might help, but I'd suggest using baby wipes. The chemicals in them aren't as harsh. Are you on any contraception?"

She shook her head. "We'll give you something that will prevent pregnancy. It may cause some light cramping. If it does, you can take any regular over-the-counter medicine for it. I'll send a tech in to get those wounds cleaned and stitched, then you can get cleaned up." He patted her knee gently. "You were very brave."

With that, he left the room. "He's right, you know," Lacey told her when they were alone. "You were very brave. I know that must have been hard for you. But it's over now, and we've gotten what we need to give us the best chance of catching this guy."

A brisk knock at the door was followed by a patient care tech, arms loaded down with two thick blankets from the warmer, a pair of baggy scrub pants, and a scrub top that snapped up the front as well as on the short sleeves (hospitals had long since abandoned the use of archaic hospital gowns).

Lacey, resigned to this interruption, unfolded a large paper sack from her evidence kit. The girl seemed happy to leave the bed and jump into the tiny shower stall in the corner of the room. The remnants of Angelica's clothing, removed during her exam, as well as the stiff, paper-thin sheets that she had been using on the bed were placed with great care into the bag, and Lacey sealed it with red evidence tape, adding the date, time, and her initials.

The tech, a heavy-set yet matronly woman, let Angelica dress while she finished making up the bed, then tucked her in tight, piling the warm blankets on top of her. "There you are, dearie." Her voice was full of kindness and pity. "That'll keep you warm until we can get you stitched up and a room ready for you. Doc wants to keep you overnight, just as a precaution."

"I can't go home?"

"No, honey, I'm afraid not. He wants to make sure you won't have a reaction to the medicine, and give you some antibiotics while you're here. But we'll take good care of you. Someone will be in shortly to stitch you up."

When they were alone again, Lacey took out her tablet, taking in the text message with a single glance. "One of our sketch artists will be here to talk to you soon. Is there anything more you can tell me about the attack? Anything at all?"

Angelica shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, it was dark, and I never got a good look at him. But..." Her voice trailed off.

"What was it?" Lacey prodded after a few moments of silence.

"There was this...smell. An odor, like cinnamon, or maybe ginger. I thought, at the time, it was strange, to smell something like that in that alley. I mean, there aren't any bakeries nearby."

Another déjà vu moment flashed through Lacey, like a single spark in a pitch-black cave. But whatever memory Angelica's words had nudged remained elusive in the recesses of her mind. In her experience of interviewing countless witnesses and victims, she knew that most humans said that Wolves didn't have much of an odor, or that if they did, it was more of an earthy or woodsy scent, like patchouli.

Lacey asked several more questions, calling on her expertise to draw more details from the woman, but she could tell that Angelica was almost tapped out. The sedative and the ordeal itself had left her eyelids drooping, and Lacey wanted to give her a break before she spoke with the sketch artist. She pulled a card from her pocket.

"Look, you talk to the artist when he gets here. His name is Thomas. He's very nice, and good at his job. Tell him everything you can remember, no matter how small the detail. I'll be in touch with you later, but here's my card. If you remember anything else, you can call me. Or send a text. Anytime, okay?"

"Okay. You're going now?"

"Yes. I'd like to give you a break before Thomas gets here. You let me know if there's anything you need. I can get you in touch with Victims' Services too, for counseling, help with medical care, things like that. Is there someone I can call to sit with you?"

"No, both my parents are dead, and I'm an only child. I haven't been in the city long, so I don't have any close friends. I'll be okay."

"Yeah, you will. I'm going to make you a promise." She looked with intensity into Angelica's sleepy and troubled eyes. "I'm going to catch this son of a bitch."

# 4

Lacey was more than relieved to be climbing back into her car, though the smell of blood would linger in her nostrils for hours. Even more troubling was the young woman's account and her inability to recall the memory it had jarred loose. Locking the vehicle doors, she leaned her forehead against the steering wheel for a brief moment.

Unbidden, a memory flashed through her mind, a reminder of the worst time of her Undead life:

~~The yips and cries of Wolf song was piercing to her sensitive ears, the smell of blood, both Vampire and Wolf, was acrid to the nose. Lacey, young yet to the life of the Undead, lay on her right side, desperate to staunch the flow of blood from her wounds with the weight of her own body. Almost unconscious, she watched the scene through eyes dulled with pain.

Her father, the one who 'Turned' her into this life, was desperately trying to defend himself from the Wolf pack. But it was ten Wolves against him, and Lacey could see that his strength was fading fast. She tried, once, twice, to climb to her feet so she could help him, but she was too weak from the loss of blood. A feeble cry escaped her lips as she watched her friend and mentor ripped apart by teeth and claws.~~

With a sharp gasp, Lacey sat up in her seat, fighting to push the memory to the back of her mind. She needed to focus on the job at hand, to find the animal responsible for the brutal attack on Angelica. I don't have time for this nonsense, she thought with a burst of anger. Ignoring the feeling of dampness on her cheeks, she started the car and zipped out of the hospital parking lot.

She mused over her interview with the victim as she sped through traffic on her way back to the station. A now-familiar sense of déjà vu tickled the back of her mind. Again, she had the sense that she should know...something, but like the mist rising in wisps from the dewy grass of the warming spring day, it was just as insubstantial.

Frustrated, she switched the car radio on and called up a 24-hour news station, more for the noise than because she cared to hear the latest news. The monotone voice of the news reporter droned on and on, pushing the elusive memory once more into the back of her mind, and by the time she arrived at the cop shop she was once again focused on her case.

"Colton!" She called to him as she shrugged off her evidence collection kit to set it on her desk. He loped into the office behind her.

"Get anything more from the vic?" His mouth was full of what appeared to be powdered donut. He had white crumbs on his shirt.

"Where's my donut?"

"Um." He swallowed with an audible gulp, then gestured toward the bullpen.

Lacey took an assortment of sealed plastic bags, swab vials, and paper sacks sealed with red evidence tape out of her case and pushed them across the desk. "These need to go to the lab." She took out her tablet and scanned a bar code on each container of evidence while Colton took out his own. A Bluetooth connection easily transmitted the information from one device to the other, keeping the chain of custody intact as protocol demanded.

Once Colton left the office, she turned to her laptop and booted it up, typing in the security code without even looking at the keys. Since David wasn't due in yet, she pulled up the assault report forms and laid her tablet on the desk within easy reach. Again, a wireless connection transferred data from her pocket device to the computer.

The software was, in her opinion, beautifully crafted for what they used it for. The main form, blank in areas where the investigator would fill in the correct information, was situated on the left-hand third of the screen, while the remaining side held the notes she had beamed to it from her mobile device. A person could write, type, or speak notes into their tablet and it would show up in the "Notes" section of the software.

It was far easier than trying to transcribe information entered on the tablet, reading on a small screen, and then retype it while looking at the larger screen of the computer. The software was designed to reduce the strain on humans' eyes, but Lacey appreciated it for its simplicity.

Even though she didn't have a chance of becoming near-sighted, she had discovered early on that this format sped up report writing, and cut down on typographical errors. It just took a couple times of using the program before it became habit, and now she spent far less time proofreading her reports and those of her crew.

She patiently began the task of starting the report, something that was required for any call no matter the details. The computer backed it up every so often, in case of power failure, and anyone in the building with proper credentials could access it from the database.

This fact made it more conducive to inter-departmental sharing. Lacey had been with the police department for over a century, and remembered the complications when paper reports had still been filed. Each department was fiercely protective of reports under their jurisdiction, and when cases merged across two or more departments, report possession became a major issue.

The outgoing department head or lieutenant would have to counter-sign a form allowing the report to leave his section, while the incoming boss had to do the same on the other end. Of course, computers and databases could still be hacked, and were on occasion, but the Dallas police department had one of the most up-to-date security and firewall systems in the nation, possibly rivaling that of the Pentagon or NASA.

She was mid-way through the report when Colton returned. As she'd never requisitioned a second chair for her office, he was forced to stand in front of the desk. She finished up the section of notes before looking up at him. "The smell of cinnamon mean anything to you?"

His nose twitched for several seconds. "Other than a bakery? Or spiced cider?"

Lacey leaned back in her chair. "The vic reported a smell of cinnamon or ginger on the perp. That doesn't sound much like a Wolf." She didn't bother to mention what Wolves smelled like to her.

"No, you're right." His forehead furrowed in thought. "What kind of Immortal smells like cinnamon?"

"I don't remember." He had walked to the stingy window of the office, but turned back at her tone.

"You mean, you don't know?" He sounded like he was trying to correct her.

"No, I mean I don't remember." She let a touch of frustration out in her voice.

"So it's tied in to whatever you were trying to think of earlier?"

"I think so. It'll come to me, sooner or later."

"You want me to start the book?" He referred to the assault report, still called a case "book" even though it never saw any paper.

"No, I've already got it. But you could set up a board." She cocked her chin at the wall opposite her desk, where a large black screen was mounted.

"You got it boss." Her eyes narrowed; was that sarcasm dripping from the word 'boss', or was she mistaken? He gestured to the door. "Let me get my tablet and I'll get it up."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

He stalked out of her office, fuming inside. Sure, she gets to do the easy part, he thought. I can see it now, from here on out, she's gonna treat me like an AIDE! Damn it, I'm a full detective, why do I get all the grunt work? He retrieved the tablet from his tiny cubicle in the bullpen, then looked in the direction of the break room. What the hell.

He stuck the tablet in his pocket and reached for his coffee mug. Unscrewing the lid, he went across the bullpen and into the cluttered area of the unit's break room. Droplets of coffee and tiny grains of sugar littered the counter top. Colton reached for the coffee pot, yanking it from its warming plate harder than he'd intended to.

One whiff of the dark brew was enough; immediately, he poured it down the sink and rinsed the pot. Putting grounds into a fresh filter, he placed the carafe back on the warmer and hit the button that would allow filtered water into the machine. While he was waiting for the machine to finish brewing, he helped himself to another powdered donut, devouring it in just a few bites, licking sweet, white confectioner's sugar from his fingers.

He returned to Lacey's office. She was again engrossed in her laptop, the keys clipping cheerfully under her fingers. She didn't look up. God, you'd think she doesn't even know I'm here! Not seeing another flat surface in the room except for her desk, he set his mug on the small table just inside the door, where Lacey always kept her car keys and other odds and ends.

Turning the big, black screen on, he turned to his tablet and began transferring the "book" from his it to the screen. At the moment, it contained a brief report from the EMS team in the field, Lacey's almost finished assault report, and his own notes and impressions from the scene. Later on, it would also include lab reports, mug shots of potential suspects, and the sketch artist's composite from the victim's description.

At the moment, there was very little in the way of arranging the information, so he skimmed over the partial report that Lacey was still working to complete. Colton saw that she had added the victim's impression of a smell similar to cinnamon or ginger as an exact quote. She's a stickler for details, that's for sure, he thought. She might not even be that bad to work with, if it weren't for that ugly...incident back in Greece.

Though Wolves were included as Immortal persons by humans, as adults they did age, but at a rate much slower than anything the humans had encountered before; the humans often regarded them as Immortal along with other species who never aged. Of course, their children grew at a very rapid rate, until they hit adolescence and became independent.

Wolves had almost instinctual ancestral memories that could be traced back many hundreds of years into their past. Though Colton hadn't been born yet, the pack of his ancestors had been the one to destroy Lacey's coven. It was something of an embarrassment for his pack today, a vicious blood feud so old that no one even knew what had started it.

With the humans forcing anger management classes on all Wolves before they could work alongside humans, violence committed by Wolves had gone down. In recent decades, the classes had become mandatory for any Werewolves attending school, including grade schools and universities.

Now, they were attempting to push it on pups at day care centers. He shook his head at the thought. They're always trying to make us into something that we're not. But I do wonder why she didn't fight harder not to be partnered with me. How can I work with her and this huge white elephant in the room?

His tablet beeped, drawing his attention back to the task at hand. He saw that Lacey's finished report had been entered into the system, so he touched a few buttons on the tablet, calling the information into his notes and from there onto the case board.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and when he glanced behind him, he saw Lacey standing very close to him, her eyes focused on the board. Again, he felt a bit unnerved by her motionless manner. She rarely blinked, and stood, still as a statue, her hands clasped behind her back as she studied the information presented on the screen.

"You got a way of sneaking up on people, don't you?" A corner of his mouth turned up in a sneer.

"I just walk the way I walk." He couldn't tell by her tone if she had meant to do it, or if it was truly just the way she moved. He shivered, his skin crawling. Vampires were no longer conscious of the need for personal space. At least the older ones weren't. Maybe they should make Vamps take a class in manners. Yeah, like teach them out of the Emily Post primer or something. This thought amused him.

To get just a bit more personal space, he stepped to the side and studied the board as intently as she was. Well, two can play this game, he thought with derision. If she doesn't have to be friendly, then I don't have to be friendly.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey learned more from Colton's behavior than she did from the notes on the board. He really doesn't like me. Acts like I've just 'Turned' his mother or something. She wasn't sure if she could get used to his prickly attitude, but didn't want to break down and admit to Commander Wilson that she couldn't work with him. In silence, she returned to her desk, leaving him to stare at the board.

"Anything you can think to add?" Her voice broke the silence.

"No, I added all my impressions before I sent the notes to the screen."

"Why don't you go home, then? We won't have anything more until Thomas gets us a sketch."

"What about you?"

She leaned back in her chair and sighed. "I've still got plenty of work to do, signing off on old cases." Her implication was that a Vampire could go without sleep longer than a Wolf. "Besides, I don't have a family waiting for me."

He shrugged, as if it meant nothing to him. "If you're sure."

"Yeah, go on. I'll text you if anything breaks."

Without a thank you or even a good-bye, he stalked from the office. That's so typical from a Wolf, she thought. They treat common courtesy like it's an outdated concept.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

She was deep into fixing yet another improper report on her laptop when it chimed, startling her for a moment. Calling up the notification, Lacey pulled the first lab report from the assault case. The ABO typing for the victim had come through. She was an AB- blood type. Lacey made a note of this in her laptop, then sent a copy of same to her tablet, Colton's tablet, and the case board in her office.

ABO typing was one of the first test results they ever got back in a case, as it took very little time to complete. The lab report also made note of two samples of blood that were O+, not belonging to the victim. However, these samples had come off the torn remnants of Angelica's shirt, and didn't necessarily point to a suspect.

There was no way to tell if the sample was from the night of the attack, or had been there for several weeks. Or months. But Lacey added the information to the board anyway, adding a question mark next to the O+ blood sampling. If they found a suspect, it could be tested against the blood sample that law now dictated was taken from everyone who was arrested or brought in for questioning.

She also marked that particular sample to go to the Combined DNA Index System, or CODIS. This database of collected and mapped DNA samples was from criminals, Undead, law enforcement, military, and many other professionals. Once DNA typing on their evidence from this case was fully sequenced, it would be compared to all other samples in CODIS. Often, this would lead detectives to a suspect, or a person of interest who needed to be questioned. Lacey doubted that this case would be so easy.

She had tried to push the nagging memory to the back of her mind, and was able to ignore it as long as she was concentrating on editing the old reports. But when her attention was called to the lab report, the sense of deja vu returned.

What is it about this case that seems so familiar to me? More often than not, an Immortal had a close family unit of other Immortals. When most of the people around you had limited lifespans, one tended to gravitate towards those who shared your fate. If Lacey had a family, she could have discussed the case in general terms, and one of her coven members might have recognized what she was trying so hard to bring forth from her memory.

But Vampires could still be killed, if their bodies were too badly damaged; the symbiotic virus in their blood gave them rapid healing, but it could not reattach limbs or rebuild entire organs. Lacey didn't have anyone. The incident in Greece had left her alone in the world, and the loss had been so painful that she'd vowed never to get that close to another again, whether they be Immortal or human. She wasn't about to make herself that defenseless again. So instead, she lived alone, and threw up a barrier around herself that discouraged others, even of her own kind, from forming close bonds with her.

She closed out the old reports and pulled up the book on their current case, going over what little information they had in an attempt to bring forth more of the memory that was nagging at her. She had the intense feeling that something about the evidence was familiar and known to her, but the harder she tried, the more elusive the memory became. Maybe I should take Colton's advice and stop thinking about it. Then: Advice from a Wolf? She scoffed.

As she closed the report book on her computer, David poked his head in the door. "Morning boss. They said you caught a case last night?"

"Early this morning, actually. I've already updated the book."

He seemed relieved. "Well, okay. Let me know when you need me to do something."

"Does the smell of cinnamon mean anything to you?"

He scratched his chin stubble while his eyes glazed over. "No, not really." His slow, gravelly speech irritated her. "Should it?"

"Never mind." I don't know why I bothered to ask a Zombie, anyway. "Go back to your work." Though she wasn't sure what work he did do when he wasn't entering or filing reports for her. Lacey didn't think she wanted to know.

Her phone rang. "Lieutenant Anderson." As she listened to the dispatcher, she took notes in her fractured handwriting, hoping she would at least be able to read the address. "Fine, I got it. Will you call Detective Colton? No, I sent him home for a couple hours. Thanks." She took a moment to transfer her notes into her tablet, which had been just out of reach on the corner of her desk.

This time, the call came from the heart of downtown, a home invasion of an apartment in one of the poorest areas of the city. I didn't really expect to be wasting my time on silly little calls like this, she thought as she left the department. The sun was blazing now, and she was glad that her assigned parking space was in the middle of the parking ramp rather than at the top.

She arrived at the scene and squeezed into a parking spot marked 'official use only' just as Colton was climbing out of his extended-cab pickup set on enormous tires. The sad-looking apartment building was one of the oldest in the city, its brick edges worn round by decades of harsh wind and dust. It was in a rough neighborhood that city officials always targeted during election months, promising to clean up and to restore the old buildings. But, of course, nothing ever came of their promises and the buildings continued to decline.

"A home invasion?" Colton snarled in greeting. "They're going to stick us on something like this? Really?"

"The caller suggested it might have been an Undead." She didn't let on that she had thought the same thing. His response was a simple grunt.

Lacey noticed the latching mechanism on the lobby's outer door was not functional, another issue with the low-rent apartments in the neighborhood. "Slum lords don't want to pay for security." She pulled the unlocked door open and they stepped inside.

"Don't want to pay for regular upkeep, either." Colton slapped a palm against the hand-written sign claiming 'out of order' on the elevator door. "What floor do we need?"

"Eleven." I sure hope the rent here is cheap. No security locks at the door and a non-working elevator. I'm sure that's easy on the older people who live here. But many years of working the city streets had educated her on the vast differences between the wealthy and the poor.

"Perfect." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Without a word, Lacey turned to the stairs. His boots made a hollow sound that echoed in a continuous pattern, making her ears ring. Colton kept up a constant tirade of grunts, pants, and curses under his breath. Finally, Lacey could tolerate no more. She stopped suddenly, halfway between flights, causing him to run into her before he could come to a full stop. "Do you mind? Would you keep your complaining to yourself?"

He opened his mouth, then must have thought twice about what he'd been about to say. She continued up the stairs, not bothering to look over her shoulder to see if he was following her. The hollow reverberation of his odd dog-like gait was distinctive enough to Lacey's ears. I don't know if I'll ever get used to having him at my back, she thought with disgust, and just a little fear. She knew exactly what a Wolf could do to an Undead such as herself.

It wasn't hard to spot the apartment they were looking for. The door hung ajar and crooked on its hinges, the frame splintered at the door jam. A thin security chain hung from the door instead of the frame. Lacey slipped on latex gloves and knocked on the wall rather than the door.

"Dallas Police," she called out, pitching her voice to reach into the apartment.

They saw a gray-haired woman appear at the crack of the doorway. She was middle-aged and was being careful. "Can I see your badges?"

Lacey nodded to Colton, and they held up their identification for her to examine. They heard the sound of furniture being scraped against a wood floor.

She opened the door. She was wearing a pink fuzzy bathrobe and well-worn and comfortable-looking white slippers. "I'm sorry for the mess," she said, indicating the living room with her hand.

It was obvious it had been ransacked. Besides the small dining room chair that had been pushed against the door to try to secure it, the cushions had been ripped off the couch and along with several small, decorated pillows, were scattered across the floor. Books from a built-in bookcase in the corner had been carelessly tossed to the floor. The wooden coffee table in the center of the living space seemed askew. The space had a homey feel and a scent of fresh, clean linens. "Don't worry about it, ma'am. I'm Lieutenant Anderson, this is my partner, Detective Scarber."

"Can I get you something to drink?" The woman, who seemed to need something to do, offered.

"No, we're fine." Lacey answered quickly before Colton could open his mouth. "What's your name?" She withdrew her tablet from her pocket.

"Oh, I'm Betsy Smith." She seemed flustered, and sank down into armchair next to the couch. She looked pale and her short curly hair was sticking up in several places.

"Okay, Betsy, I'm going to record this interview. Is that okay?" Betsy nodded in agreement. "Can you tell me what happened?" Lacey was ready to take notes onto her tablet, but also set it to 'record audio' mode. It was something she wanted to experiment with once back at the station, revisiting an interview in case she'd missed any details.

"Well, I was in the shower, you see." Betsy clutched both hands tight in her lap. "I got a call this morning from work, saying that I didn't need to come in today."

"What is it that you do?" Colton spoke up for the first time.

"I'm an elementary school substitute teacher. I've been covering a history class for another teacher who'd had the flu for a week or so. The school wasn't sure how long he'd be out, so they would call me each morning to let me know they needed me."

"Ok, so you were supposed to be working, as far as you knew, until what time?"

"I think they called around five this morning. They usually try to call early enough so I have time to get ready. This time I just went back to bed so I could sleep in. I'm not getting any younger." Lacey smiled. I wish I knew how that feels! But at least I'm not getting any older.

"And what time did you get up after that?" She jotted some shorthand notes into her tablet.

"I'd say around seven-thirty, maybe closer to eight. I don't usually sleep much longer than that when I'm not working. I had a cup of coffee and then went to take a shower. I didn't have anything planned for the day, since I thought I'd be at work. But I decided to go to the market today instead of tomorrow. Just in case I do get called in for class."

"So you were actually in the shower when this happened? Then what, did you hear something?"

"I heard the sound of the door breaking open. Only I didn't know what it was at the time. Then I could hear someone moving around in the apartment."

"Do you live alone, Betsy?" Colton wanted to know.

"Yes, I lost my husband three years ago." A look of grief crossed her face. "My best friend Sharon has a key to the apartment, but I knew she would be at work so it couldn't have been her. I just wrapped up in my robe and ran for the bedroom door. That's when I saw him."

"Can you describe him, ma'am?" Lacey was concentrating on her notes.

"Well, I can't begin to come close to guessing his age, it's really hard to tell the age of...well, an Immortal." Her choice of words was an obvious attempt at political correctness and Lacey could tell that Betsy didn't like to use the more derogatory label of Undead. "I'd say he was about six feet tall, maybe a little taller. Black hair, and he had thick, dark hair across the tops of his hands."

"How do you know he was an Immortal?"

Betsy glanced up at Colton as she answered his question. "Young man, I've taught school nearly forty years now, in mixed schools, usually. After all that time, you sort of get a feeling about people quickly. Plus I heard him mutter 'human' under his breath as he left."

"Did he hurt you?" Concern could be heard in Lacey's voice.

"Oh, my goodness no! I took one look at him and slammed the bedroom door. Then I locked it and called 911 right away. I could hear him for just a few minutes after I made the call, thumping and grunting, I imagine while he was doing that." She waved at the bookcase with the sad pile of books knocked over or fallen off the shelves. "I think I surprised him as much as he did me."

"You're lucky," Colton commented.

"He'd probably been watching you for a few days, and saw you going out at a specific time and not returning for a while. Is anything missing?"

"I don't usually keep much cash here at the apartment," Betsy said. "Especially since I wasn't planning to go marketing until tomorrow. And my purse was still on the table." She pointed to a cozy breakfast table near the kitchen. "And there's nothing missing that I know of."

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Lacey turned off the tablet's recorder. Colton gestured the crime scene tech into the apartment.

"What do we have?" The tech spoke with a distinctive southern accent.

"Home invasion." Colton pointed to the door. "Why don't you get started over there?"

"Is this really necessary?" Betsy asked.

"I know it's inconvenient and messy." Lacey tried her best to be soothing. "But the more information and evidence we can gather, the better our chances of finding out who did this."

"I'll try to be quick, ma'am," the tech added. "And I'll do my best to clean up the dust an' all."

For all the technology available to crime scene techs, fingerprint powder was still the best way to go to gather some types of evidence, fingerprints being only one main type. The powder included nanotechnology, so that it was even possible to use it for lifting shoe tread prints from hard floor surfaces or carpets, and had replaced the need for crime scene techs to carry electrostatic print-lifting and mold-making kits. The powder had evolved significantly, however; it was still referred to as "dusting", though very little was left behind for cleanup.

"Oh, sonny," she waved a hand in the tech's direction. "I'm not worried about that! But I'm getting old, and this morning's excitement has left me a little exhausted."

"Colton, give him a hand. Maybe between the two of you, we can speed this up."

"You sure you don't want any coffee?" Betsy asked again. "I'm getting some."

"No, ma'am, I'm fine." Lacey followed her into the kitchen for a quick glance around. "Betsy, what's that smell?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you have a scented candle or an oil warmer in the apartment, anything like that?"

"Not anymore." Betsy filled a coffee mug from a mini pot on the counter. "I used to, a couple years ago. I broke it when I tried to replace the light bulb in it."

"Excuse me for a moment." Lacey returned to Colton in the living room.

"What's up?"

"Can you smell that?" Lacey asked in quiet tones meant for his ears alone.

His sensitive nose twitched for several moments. "I don't really...wait a minute." He began walking around the edge of the living room until he was almost at the doorway separating the room from the kitchen. "It's the strongest right here." He bent down on one knee, examining the polished hardwood surface and running gloved hands over the rectangular carpet runner in the main walking area.

"What is it?" Lacey was hoping his greater sense of smell would identify something that she couldn't quite pinpoint.

"It smells like..." He trailed off, nose twitching furiously, eyes glazed over as he tried to translate the scent into something she might be able to understand. "It almost smells like pumpkin pie."

"Pumpkin pie?" Lacey was baffled. "Why would it smell like that in here?" Colton shrugged.

Lacey caught the other woman at the doorway to the kitchen. "Mrs. Smith, do you bake?"

"Oh, no dearie, I haven't done that in years! We used to have big family gatherings over the holidays, but after Dean passed away, the kids moved out to California, so I haven't really done much baking. Hard to do for just one."

"Do you use pumpkin pie spice?"

"I'm allergic to pumpkin," Betsy said immediately. "Even just the smell of it is enough to make me start sneezing."

Lacey exchanged glances with Colton. So, it's obviously not strong enough for a human to smell, which means it's either very weak or has had time to dissipate, or she certainly would have noticed it. What does that mean? She made a quick note to herself in her tablet, to check with the lab on different kinds of scents, in particular those reported to be common in human descriptions of the different species of Undead. Maybe one of the olfactory techs can narrow it down.

The crime scene tech had moved to the book case along the wall, and Colton was picking up the couch cushions and pillows to look for any evidence there might have been underneath them. She watched him examine both sides of each cushion, and then, to her amusement, replace them with care on the couch where they would have been before the intruder had tossed them to the floor. Gallantry from a Wolf? She thought. Or is he just well-trained?

"I'm not finding much else here." The tech's frustration was evident from his voice. "I was hoping maybe one of the books had given him a little paper cut, something."

"I don't see anything else, either," Colton said. "Get that stuff to the lab." He referred to the fingerprint and possible shoe print evidence the tech had pulled from the doorknob and the outside of the door.

"Sure thing, boss. Get it right in, see what we can narrow down for you."

Colton walked the tech to the door as Lacey turned to Betsy. "Mrs. Smith, here's my card. If you think of anything more, or need anything, anything at all, you let me know. Do you have a place you can stay until your door gets repaired?"

"I already called the super about it. He said to let him know the minute you left and he'll take care of it for me. I've been here a long time, and he's good to me. He does most minor repairs himself, but he's not licensed for bigger jobs, like the elevator. He's just waiting for next quarter's budget to clear and he'll get someone out to fix that, too. He tries."

"Here's my card too, Mrs. Smith." Colton handed her a business card. "You call on me if you need anything."

"We're sorry for the trouble ma'am, and we'll do our best to catch this guy. I'll be in touch."

As they were making their way down the stairwell, Lacey commented, "You seemed awful nice to her."

"What?" He seemed startled. "Well, she kind of reminded me of my mother." His voice sounded sheepish. "And if my mother ever found out I left that nice lady's couch cushions laying on the floor when I could have just as easily put them back where they belonged, she'd skin my hide!"

"A big strapping Wolf like yourself is afraid of your mother?" She asked this with a hint of a taunting tone.

"She raised the eight of us all by herself," Colton retorted. "So you're damned right I am!"

A genuine burst of delighted laughter escaped from Lacey before she could stop it. The cheery sound reverberated up and down the stairwell.

# 5

Lacey paced the floor in the dim light of her kitchen, listening to the barely-discernible whirring sound made by the microwave as it warmed her meal. The case was nagging her, the smell of cinnamon or pumpkin pie spice again triggering her memory, but only partly. In frustration, she leaned over the marble counter top, arms crossed, elbows resting on the cool stone. When the memories took over her mind, she never heard the soft ping from the microwave.

~~She glanced at Aegon, fear causing all the fine hairs on her arms and neck to stand on end. She could hear the yips and howls of the pack as they surrounded the stone structure. It was just a matter of time before they found a way in. There were just the four of them, five if you counted young Phemius, but he was still in the throes of the 'Change' and she knew they couldn't count on him. She wasn't sure where Abana had gotten off to, and Merope was cowering in the corner. She wouldn't be much help in a fight.

The howling outside grew louder, and she could hear pounding on the sturdy wooden door. Aegon, his back to her, was doing something at the slim table in the corner of the room. He was muttering under his breath in a language that sounded like Latin, but his voice was so quiet that even her sharp ears couldn't make out any of the words. Lacey unsheathed her dagger with a soft hiss, and held it in her hand as she'd been taught, every fiber in her being tensed and ready for battle.

A small fire whooshed in front of Aegon and he stepped back. The smell of ginger, cinnamon, and nutmeg tickled her nose, but when she looked questioningly at Aegon, he was gone. She was alone in the room, the music of Wolf song in her ears, the pounding at the door reminding her of her predicament. Then, all went suddenly dark and silent.~~

With a gasp, she looked up, finding herself alone in her kitchen, the timer on the microwave blinking, blinking, as if to remind her of where she was. The house was silent. Damn these memories! She thought, furious. She knew what a psychologist would say: repressed memories, trauma, PTSD. Even though she had been a Vampire for hundreds of years now, she'd once been human, and still had a human's brain, complete with all the idiosyncrasies that came along with it. Including all the weaknesses of the human mind.

But, had she chosen to seek help, conventional medical therapies wouldn't have done her any good. Since the virus that caused the 'Change' altered the human biochemistry, most drugs that were produced for human use wouldn't metabolize properly in the system of a Vampire, and were therefore rendered useless. The rare exceptions to this were painkillers, sedatives, and illicit drugs.

Science still had not worked out why these certain types of drugs worked on the system of a Vampire. Then again, drug manufacturing companies weren't too inclined to conduct research into drugs for most species of Undead; since they didn't age and deteriorate as humans did, there wasn't a lot of money to be made in the creation of medications for them.

Before retrieving her dinner from the microwave, she went to the sink and dabbed cold water onto her face. It was a habit she retained from her human life, which did nothing at all for her Vampire body, but somehow always made her mind feel more composed. Drying her skin with a soft towel hanging near the sink, she took the blood packet from the microwave and poured it into the waiting glass. It was already starting to lose its temperature; blood didn't retain heat for very long, but she knew from experience that reheating it was unwise. So, she gulped it down like medicine, or an alcoholic bolting his favorite spirit.

To rid herself of the taste of her lukewarm blood, she pulled a glass of wine from the refrigerator along with a plate of sharp cheddar cut into bite-sized squares. Her physiology was set up so that she could eat all the same foods she had enjoyed when she'd been human, but the blood was what truly sustained her. It was to her like the element iodine was to a human, necessary to the body in certain amounts. This was one of the reasons that Vampires had been able to hide in plain sight among humans for so many centuries, before the Undead had become accepted by human society.

She carried her snack into the living room, where she cozied up in her favorite place on the couch, and turned on the huge television screen. She nibbled on cheese, sipped on wine, all while idly flipping through the channels and finding nothing of interest. She knew she should sleep while she had the chance to. Though her body no longer needed the physical rest, her mind still needed the break from the day, a time to relax and to unwind with nothing needing to be done. But since her biochemical physiology didn't work like a human's anymore, she didn't get the feeling of being tired or sleepy, and had to motivate herself to get into bed.

Often, this was after several hours of flipping through mindless infomercials on TV. Why the channel providers insisted on putting that pointless programming on just because it was the middle of the night, she didn't know. But on this night, she a found a great movie just beginning to play on one of her favorite channels. She'd already seen it, of course, but enjoyed watching it over again. So, she toed off her boots, setting them carefully on the floor next to the couch, and settled in to the luxurious cushions, placing her wine within easy reach.

The movie hadn't even approached the good part yet when her cell phone rang with a soft sound. Not bothering to curse, she set aside her half-empty wine glass, answering with one hand.

"Anderson." After listening to the caller for a moment, she reached for the tablet she had placed on the coffee table. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. No, that's okay, I'll call him. No problem. Thanks."

Lovely, she thought. Now I get to see what it's like to wake up a Wolf! Before she could lose her nerve and call Dispatch back, she flipped through her contacts until she found Colton's number. It rang six or seven times.

"What?" His voice was more growl than human.

"Caught a case." She didn't let on how much his growl had startled her.

"What?" This time he seemed more confused than anything. "Dispatch?"

"No, it's Anderson."

"Oh. Oh, geez." She heard noises like the sound of sheets rubbing against skin. "Sorry, I guess I haven't added you to my caller ID yet. I didn't recognize your number."

It seemed that he was trying to be contrite, so she answered in the same way. "It's okay. I must have startled you at this hour, waking you up."

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay though. Where we headed?" She gave him the address, amused because her sensitive ears could hear him scrawling notes on a pad. Then, she could almost see him swipe a hand across his face. "Well, give me like, fifteen or so?"

She agreed, then slipped the phone into her pocket. This would leave her enough time to change clothes and still make it to the scene before him. She jogged up the curving staircase, taking the steps two at a time, trailing her hand along the smooth, polished banister. In less than eight minutes, she was in her car and speeding down her driveway.

The call was to a bar on the outskirts of Dallas, on the opposite end of the suburbs from her home. But at just before 3AM, the highways were almost empty, and she had no trouble getting to the scene. The pub was called O'Malley's Place. Though last call should have already come and gone, the parking area in the front was still full. Several obvious patrons were milling about in the parking lot, as if to catch a glimpse of the violence that had just happened there. An ambulance was pulling away from the curb.

"Damn it!" She cursed, wondering if she was going to have to chase the ambulance to the hospital in order to interview her victim. She pulled a quick U-turn in the middle of the street and zipped her car into the space vacated by the ambulance. She'd interview those inside the tavern, and give Colton the chance to meet up with her. Then, maybe she could send him to do the dirty work at the hospital.

She badged a uniform standing guard at the door, and ducked inside. The bar would have been cozy, if not for the obvious signs of a disturbance. Several round tables were knocked on their sides, and bar stools were scattered across what was likely a dance floor. The numerous televisions scattered around the place were all tuned to a 24 hour sports channel, but the volume had been muted. The pub smelled of liquor, beer, and peanuts. Broken glass, bits of popcorn and pretzels, and sudsy liquid littered the floor in front of the long bar top. A lone man stood behind the bar, wiping the polished wood with a cloth.

"I'm sorry, we're already closed," he said without looking up.

Lacey approached him, pulling her badge from her pocket. "Lieutenant Anderson."

"Oh, forgive me!" He looked startled. "I guess I should be paying more attention."

"What's your name?"

"Shaun. Shaun Keller. I'm the main barkeep at night." He looked as if he wanted to offer his hand but wasn't sure it was appropriate. "I'm off Mondays and Tuesdays, here the rest of the time."

"Okay, Shaun. Did you see what happened here?" She took out her tablet.

"Kind of hard to miss, if you know what I mean." He gestured to the overturned tables. "Started right in front of me."

"Know what it started over?"

He shook his head. "Not a clue. It was busy at the time, and they had the juke going. Loud, you know?" He resumed wiping down the bar, though Lacey was sure there wasn't a speck left anywhere on it. "I'd just turned my back to grab a bottle of Jonnie for a drink." He mimed turning around to grab a bottle of premium scotch from its place on the counter behind him. "That's when I heard the hollering. Them two big guys were just squaring off, but the blond one was rubbing his chin like he'd already taken one to the face."

Shaun broke off as the door opened and Colton came in, still putting his badge back into his pocket. "Detective Scarber." Lacey introduced him with a jerk of her head. She noticed that Shaun showed no hesitation in putting out his hand for the other man.

"Did I miss much?"

"Mr. Keller had just started to tell me what happened," Lacey informed him smugly. Maybe now he'll learn to get to a scene quicker.

"Then, by all means, continue." His voice was scathing.

"Well, the black-haired guy just pulled back and socked the other one. Broke a bunch of glasses on the table he was sitting at, reaching across to get to the guy. That's when I called for Larry."

"Larry?" Colton asked.

"He's our bouncer. I think he's back there cleaning up the bathrooms."

Colton stepped away without any urging from Lacey. Maybe he's finally going to learn how to work with me, she thought.

"Well, anyway," Shaun continued. "Larry took the both of them and chucked 'em out the door. And that would have been the end of it, but for the fact that the blond guy came stumbling back in, and he'd been worked over real good."

"How long after they'd been kicked out did he come back in?"

"Oh, maybe five, ten minutes. I was still trying to keep everyone clear of the mess until Mandy could get it cleaned up. She's the waitress who was here tonight. She'd slipped outside for a break when it happened, didn't see a thing. She was pretty shook up, though, seeing that poor guy beat up that bad. I sent her on home. I hope that's okay?"

Lacey nodded, adding, "If I need to talk to her, I assume you can get me in touch?"

"Oh, yeah, no problem there. She lives in the same building I do."

"Okay, that's fine. What did you do next?" She made some notes in her tablet.

"Well, we called 911 right away, of course! Mandy grabbed a couple of towels, tried to stop the bleeding. Later she said that first aid course she'd taken years ago had finally paid off. The guy was kind of really out of it. I think the med tech said something about concussion or brain injury. That's what got Mandy freaking out. She went into the office to sit down after the EMTs took him away."

"Did they say where they were taking him?"

"Uh, Medical City, I think."

Lacey heard Colton's distinct footsteps as he walked back up the long hallway from the direction of the rest rooms. "Anything?" She asked when he had rejoined her.

"Not much." Colton shifted his tablet in his large hand. "Didn't see much, was sitting at the door there when the fight started." He pointed to a stool situated near the front of the room. "Shaun here called to him, he dragged the perps out the door, end of story. But since he came back inside after kicking them to the curb, he's not sure what happened before the vic came back in, alone."

"Okay, Mr. Keller. If we have more questions, where can we reach you?" He rattled off his phone number, and Lacey added it to the case notes on her tablet. Then she turned to examine the shards of glass littering the hardwood floor. Colton followed suit.

"Check this out!" Lacey exclaimed, digging in her pocket for a pair of gloves. With great care, she plucked a piece of glass from the floor and held it up.

"Is that blood?"

She brought it closer to her nose while maintaining the integrity of the evidence and inhaled a deep breath. "I'm not sure. But it doesn't smell human."

Colton looked almost embarrassed, but pulled on gloves of his own. He, too, smelled the fragment of glass. His nose twitched as he inhaled deeply several times. "You're right, it's not human. At least not any human I'm aware of. You got a bag on you?"

Lacey removed her gloves and stood. "I've got some in the car. I'll be right back. Don't move." She was just gone a few moments, moving quicker than any human could. She pulled on fresh gloves and held open the bag so Colton could drop the glass inside. He seemed to be very careful that his gloved fingers didn't touch hers. Then, she sealed and initialed it.

"We should get this right to the lab. Want me to take it?"

She shook her head. "I'd planned on going to the lab myself, anyway. I want to talk to the Olfactory techs about that smell from the home invasion."

"Do you think the cases are connected?"

"I don't know." She put the plastic bag into her pocket. "But the first vic, Angelica, she'd mentioned an odd odor. And then yesterday, there was that smell at Mrs. Smith's apartment. I'm beginning to wonder if we have a serial on our hands."

"A serial what? First a rape assault, then a home invasion, now a bar fight? What's the common denominator? Most serials have a regular M.O. and they usually follow it to a tee!"

"Not sure," Lacey mused. "But I think we need to find out. Interview the victim at the hospital. When you're done there, go back to the station, start running background checks on all the vics. Find out if they have anything in common. I'll stop at the lab first, then meet you there for a report."

"Sure thing, boss." His voice was laced with sarcasm.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Do this, do that! Colton left the bar fuming. She acts so high and mighty, treats me like I'm some sort of manservant! Where does she get off ordering me around? He jerked the door of his pickup open, anger turning his face to bright red. He started the truck, and pulled into the street with a squeal of tires. He reached for his coffee cup, discovering that the coffee had gone cold while he'd been tied up in the tavern. He barely contained the urge to hurl the tepid beverage onto the floor.

His anger had just begun to cool by the time he arrived at the station, only to find that someone had claimed his parking space. He roared in frustration. "Son of a bitch!" Circling the parking ramp up and down twice, he had to settle for a spot on the very top of the structure. He slammed the truck door and stalked toward the stairs, having no patience for the elevator. His footsteps echoed with a dull sound through the stairwell.

Knowing he was about to spend several hours at his computer in pursuit of a connection that likely didn't exist only served to make his mood worse. He stomped through the bullpen, ignoring the greetings of other officers as he did. He slumped down in his desk chair, swore, and then booted up his computer.

He first entered all the information he'd gathered at the tavern as well as his interview with the victim. The poor man was going to have a hell of a shiner, and was likely to be stiff and sore for a few days at least. Then, on impulse, he combined the last three cases into one for the computer. He set it to run a search on any commonality between the victims. As it was working, he began his own manual search, looking to see if they had shopped at the same market, used the same dry cleaners, or attended the same church. The task was tedious and helped him to shove his temper to the back of his mind, where it simmered like a pot left too long on the stove.

An hour later, and he'd had enough. His search had netted him nothing, and the computer's search wasn't going any better. Leaving his cubicle, he stalked into the break room, finding the coffee pot empty as usual, except for chocolate-colored dregs. He paced the small room while the scent of coffee slid tantalizingly through the air. His frustration grew as he discovered they were out of sugar. He turned his nose up at the packets of sugar-substitute, instead putting more powdered cream into the mug. He returned to his work space and prepared for another pointless hour.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

All lab work for the Dallas police department was contracted out to a privately-owned facility. It was housed in a brand-new building of sleek, shiny metal and sparkling glass. Lacey didn't care for the architectural design of the place, but she knew that the staff inside, and their work, had always been stellar. But being inside its glass walls had always given her the creeps, the feeling of being too exposed.

Lacey didn't have an appointment with any of the techs, and so decided to make her first stop on level two where the Olfactory unit was located. This specialty unit had been created for scents left on evidence by various species of Undead, but they were useful in identifying the smells of sachets, lotions, and scented oils as well. These techs were most often human, though there were some Shifters as well, those whose animals had a very good sense of smell. Some of them were talented enough that they could likely make much more money working for designer perfume manufacturers. Instead, they devoted their life to helping investigators identify scents on clothing, paper, and all sorts of evidence.

She'd not had much cause for dealing with the O.U. before, though she'd been in several court cases where techs had been testifying. She'd found their testimony rather interesting; her Vampire body was built to identify the scent of blood, and most things smelled like iron to her, more so if any humans were nearby. She'd forgotten the wide range of odors humans could perceive. But this was the first time she'd ever come to this building with the purpose of speaking with one of the olfactory specialists.

The first thing she noticed about the workspace belonging to the scent specialists was that it smelled clean. No, it's not so much clean, but devoid of scent. Warily, she took in a deep breath, testing the air. Several breaths confirmed her suspicions. It didn't even smell like humans worked here. She wondered what type of air filtration system they employed that could take away even the coppery smell of human blood coursing through veins.

It was also neat in appearance, unlike some of the lab stations where clutter seemed to collect on its own. Cubicles were clear of notes and the usual bits of flotsam that people hard at work usually left within easy reach. Fingers moved over computer keyboards, the cheerful click of the keys ringing through the room. A young man sat at a half-length counter dividing the front of the room from the rest. There was a small table and a few padded chairs near the door.

"Can I help you?" The young man's voice held a pleasant and polite tone.

She pulled her badge. "Lieutenant Anderson. I'm sorry, I don't have an appointment, but I was wondering if one of the techs would have a moment to speak to me."

"Let me see what we've got going on." He turned to his computer, taking only a few moments before he looked up at her. "Shellie's free right now. Let me call her for you."

Rather than take a seat, Lacey stood, patiently waiting with hands in her pockets. She didn't feel the human urge to fidget. It wasn't long before a perky woman with a riot of golden curls framing a pretty, heart-shaped face walked up to her.

"Hi, Lieutenant Anderson? I'm Shellie Munroe." She held out a delicate hand.

Lacey shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"You wanna come on back? We can have a chat."

"Sure." All at once, Lacey felt a bit out of her element. Shellie led her to a cubicle and pulled up a chair from an empty one across the walkway.

"What can I do for Dallas' finest, lieutenant?

"Does the scent of cinnamon mean anything to you? By that, I mean associated with a species of Undead?"

Shellie's eyes turned inward as she contemplated the question. Finally, she shook her head. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"What about pumpkin pie spice, um...wait a minute." She pulled out her tablet, accessing the notepad application where she had jotted down reminders. "Ginger? Nutmeg? Any of these smells ever been used to describe a species of Undead? From a human's perspective, I mean."

"No, I don't think so." As if wanting to be thorough, Shellie began typing a search into her computer. "Are you sure that's what the scent was? If you have some evidence, we can try to identify it."

"Nothing in the way of evidence so far," Lacey told her. "Just observations from witnesses, myself being one of them. It was my partner, Detective Scarber, who said it smelled like pumpkin pies. He's a Wolf, his sense of smell is much sharper than mine."

"I'm not pulling up anything that specifically relates to a species of Undead." Shellie sounded frustrated at not being able to provide an immediate answer. "We do keep a database of this sort of thing, stuff that's reported to us, I mean. A lot of it doesn't make it this far."

"I understand. I just thought it was worth a shot."

"Well, please, if you do get something physical, something that holds an odor like clothing or paper, feel free to bring it by. We'll try our best to identify it for you." Shellie stood to show her out.

"Thank you, I will. And thank you for your time."

Well, that's one dead end I can mark off the checklist, she thought as she rode a series of escalators several floors upward on her way to the blood lab. But I had to try. Stepping off the moving staircase onto the 5th floor, she pulled the evidence bag out of her pocket.

If the Olfactory Unit had been a blessed relief for its absence of smells, the Blood and Tissue Department was just the opposite. The smell of blood here was almost overpowering, causing a primal response from Lacey as visceral as the song of a Siren to unsuspecting sailors.

She glanced around the busy room, breathing through her mouth as much as possible, looking for any tech she recognized. There were so many of them, but she had a handful she'd worked with many times before, and she trusted them.

Finally, she spotted Linus sitting at his work station, eyes glued to a microscope. He was a small, slim man with graying hair starting to thin on top, and striking blue eyes that missed no detail. He was an excellent analyst and had done quick yet thorough work for Lacey on past cases. She approached his station.

Without taking his eyes off the scope, he said, "Give me just a moment, please." He jotted down some notes on the tablet next to him without looking, a feat that never failed to impress Lacey. She supposed he could also type and carry on a conversation at the same time, never having to look at the keyboard. She waited in silence.

When he did glance up, his face lit up in pleasure. "Hiya, Lace! When you gonna go out with me?"

She smiled. It was a running joke that had started between them years ago, when Linus' sister was always trying to set him up with a never-ending string of friends. To get her off his back, Linus had told his sister he was dating a Vampire. Mysteriously, the blind date requests had suddenly stopped. Though in actuality, they had gone out for drinks, but just as friends and colleagues, after a grueling court case had come to a satisfying end.

"When you don't smell as appetizing." It was the same answer she always gave.

He threw back his head and let out a belly laugh. When he'd caught his breath, he managed to ask, "So, did you bring me something?"

She scanned the evidence bag with her tablet, and watched as he did the same, transferring custody of it. "From my latest case."

"Heard you got promoted."

"Yeah, well, I'm still doing most of the grunt work."

He examined the piece of glass through the clear plastic. "Is this a cold case?"

"No, why?"

"Well, this blood looks old. Or something. Whatever it is, it's not normal."

"I don't think it is blood," she told him, leaning over his shoulder to look as he slit the evidence tape to unseal the bag. "It didn't smell like blood, either to me or to Detective Scarber."

"How's that working out?" A couple of strong drinks had allowed Lacey to drop her guard and she'd told Linus just exactly why she had such a fear and hatred of Werewolves.

Not wanting to disrespect anyone working under her command, she just shrugged. "It could be worse. He could be related to the ones who killed my family. But he's really not so bad, just irritating."

"If you say so." Linus used a pair of tweezers to gently remove the shard of glass and place it into a petri dish. "Just watch out for the temper! We had a Wolf that worked here for about a week. Never saw so much broken glass! And from what she always said, she was pretty tame, for a Wolf." Lacey thought back to Missy, the tame Wolf that had been her first case with Colton.

"I'm not afraid of his temper. Anyway, speaking of, I need to go see if he's dug up any new information. Let me know what you find out from that?" She nodded toward her evidence.

"Right away."

"Thanks, Linus."

Back at the department, Lacey scanned the bullpen for Colton as she walked to her office. It didn't surprise her that he was nowhere to be found. I'm still trying to figure out why they thought he would be the best choice as a second-in-command! He's shown me these little acts of defiance, and he seems to screw off whenever he thinks he can get away with it. That, along with his long hair, were subtle signs of rebellion that Lacey had no trouble picking up on. How long do I let it go on?

She scanned the case file and noted that Colton had added the information about their bar fight victim. 28 years old, Dennis Colby was a student at the University of Texas, Dallas campus, who'd been waiting for a friend that never showed. From what bartender Shaun had said, he'd been just minding his own business and drinking a beer when he was inexplicably attacked.

Lacey poked her head out the office door, but still didn't see Colton. Disgusted, she sat back down at her desk and reached for the phone. Before she could dial, she heard a knock at the door. It was Colton. He had an old paper file in his hand.

"You've saved me a phone call." Her voice was harsh with reprimand.

"I just came back up from the library." He referred to one of the storage rooms in the building's basement where one could find some old reference books and dusty reports that hadn't yet been added to the department's computer database.

She wrinkled her nose. "What on Earth did you go down there for?"

"The computer thought it had a similarity between our rape case and a really old one. It directed me to this file." He handed it to her.

"And?"

"Well, once I'd looked through it, I realized that the suspect in the case, though never tried or convicted, was never mentioned to be an Immortal. I Googled it; that was way back in the day, but people were aware of the Undead even then."

Lacey flipped through the case file. "So what you're saying is that this suspect is likely to be dead?"

"That was my take." He shrugged. "But I thought you might want to look at it before I return it."

"Yes, I will. Give me a few minutes."

When he had left the office, she turned to her computer, a bit pleased that Colton had tugged this particular line just from a hunch and the computer's suggestion. She added in the impressions from both Shellie and Linus, even though they weren't 'official' reports, in their case book. She put them into the notes section because it would help her to remember the discussions she'd had with the techs later on when the reports did come in. Then, she turned to the old file Colton had left her.

It's been a long time since I've flipped through a file like this! She thought in amusement. Sometimes I miss the good old days. She winced as one of the sheets sliced her thumb. Or, maybe not! Much of the ink on the paper had begun to fade, but she was still able to read the bulk of the information. The case had been a rape, but there its similarity ended.

The main person of interest, a man named Blayze Sherman, had been the complainant's live-in boyfriend, and, as Colton had mentioned, he had never been tried. There was no mention that the man might have been an Immortal, and as Lacey did the math, she understood that the man would have been well over one hundred twenty-five years old now, if he were still alive.

Even still, Lacey turned to her computer, bringing up the Public Records database. Anyone who was ever born, married, divorced, registered (in the case of the Undead), or suspected or convicted of a crime could be found in the records. Here the government was very strict; you would not find boxes of dusty paper files of birth certificates or marriage licenses anywhere. All this information had been input many years ago.

She found Sherman's birth certificate, saw that there was never a marriage license issued under his name, and learned that he'd been convicted of shoplifting and drug possession as a young man. She also discovered a death certificate for the man. Which she knew from experience could be faked. Lacey herself had done it many times, when Immortals still had to hide from humans. Lacey called up an I.D. photograph of Blayze Sherman and studied it closely.

Looking back and forth between the paper police report of the assault and to the information on Sherman from public records, she found no hint at all that he could have been Undead. His photograph had given Lacey a sense of familiarity, as if she had met him sometime in the past, but couldn't remember when. Or if she had met him; maybe she were projecting similarities of someone else she knew onto him. Eventually, she sighed in frustration, and set the file aside. I'm not going to let him take this back downstairs just yet.

She touched a button and had the entire record on Sherman, with the exception of the ragged paper file, transferred to her tablet where she could have easy access to it later on. Something about that file was nagging at her.

Her computer beeped, and she turned to it. Pulling up the case information, she saw that Thomas had added his sketch to the database. A few taps of the keys, and she had the artist's rendition up on the big screen. Eyes narrowing, she called up the I.D. photograph of Blayze Sherman and split the screen so that the two images were side by side.

The I.D. photo, while old, was still in good condition. Lacey saw a square-jawed man staring back at her, his head covered with long, tangled brown hair. She could barely discern the flat lips beneath an unkempt brown mustache and beard. He had a very short neck, giving his head the appearance of just sitting on broad, heavily-muscled shoulders. Dark brown eyes peeked through slitted eyelids.

Next, Lacey contemplated the sketch. Of course, the artist's impression had been drawn in shades of gray, but there was a similarity to what she could see of Sherman's jaw structure, and Thomas' drawing. The sketch didn't show eye color, and she glanced back at the computer to see if the artist had noted it. The best the victim could identify was "dark", according to Thomas, which of course meant nothing; colored contact lenses could transform any eye color to another.

The man in the sketch had shorter hair, and no beard or mustache, but that, too, was a characteristic that could be changed with ease. Out of curiosity, she ran the sketch through the department's facial-recognition software, which was extremely sophisticated, and leaned a hip against the corner of the desk while the machine worked. A few minutes later, and the computer had found five up-to-date I.D. photos of men with similar appearances.

One by one, she added the new photos, comparing them to the picture on file for Blayze Sherman, and the sketch done by Thomas. The fourth image seemed to be the closest match, and she spent several minutes looking back and forth between the three.

The current I.D. was for a man named Jason Blyge, and had an inner-city last known address listed. The two photos looked quite similar to her, but she wanted her partner's opinion of it as well. May never get used to thinking of him as my partner! She tried and failed to repress a quick shudder.

Leaving the split-screened images on the board, she rose from the desk and stuck her head out into the bullpen. She saw Colton's back as he hunched over his computer, slowly punching the keys with the forefinger of each hand. "Colton!"

He started, then tossed a glance over his shoulder. "What's up?"

"Sketch is in." She retreated back into her office.

In moments, Colton's bulk appeared, taking up the breadth of the doorway. Lacey waved a hand at the screen. "What do you think of that?"

He turned to gaze at the three images on the screen, and she stood behind him with arms crossed over her chest.

"I don't know," he said finally, an uncertain tone to his voice. "I guess it's close. I mean, the hair's different and all, but that can be cut. Did Thomas say anything about eye color?"

"Just dark."

He made a noncommittal noise. "Well, what do you want to do, boss?"

This time, she noticed no sarcasm in his voice. "Have some uniforms pick him up," Lacey ordered. "I want to have a talk with Mr. Blyge."

# 6

Lacey stood at the one way glass in the observation room, hands clasped at her back. She watched the brown-haired man sitting inside the tiny room, his cuffed hands pinned to a ring welded to the hard, cold metal of the table. The lights inside the interrogation cell were blazing, and the heat had been turned up high enough to make most people uncomfortable. That, and the fact that Lacey had left Jason Blyge sitting alone in the cell for almost an hour, were all techniques designed to break down the resolve of a potential suspect during interview.

Colton, standing next to Lacey, shifted his weight with a sound betraying his more-than-obvious restlessness. He seemed to be running out of patience just sitting and watching their person-of-interest while he sat and fidgeted in the uncomfortable metal seat which was bolted to the floor. It was positioned so that, since the person sitting in it couldn't scoot it closer to the table, he was forced to lean forward slightly in order to avoid stretching his arms out in an unpleasant manner. "How do you want to do this?"

She never took her eyes off the man in the interview room. "I'll make it known that you're a Wolf right off the bat; he'll be expecting poor treatment and behavior on your part. I want you to use that anger, and his own fear, against him."

"So, Good Cop/Bad Cop?" He chuckled as if amused by the thought. "Guess I can play Bad Cop well enough."

"I'll be making nice, and trying to temper your anger, and the more I try, the angrier I want you to get." She looked away from the glass now, at the tablet she had just pulled from her pocket. "I have the dates of all three cases here, we need to find out if he's alibied for them. Has he asked for a lawyer?"

"Nope. Cocky bastard. Or else just plain stupid."

"Okay, let's hope he doesn't. Come on, and follow my lead. Don't mention Sherman yet, we'll hold that card for a while. In fact, I think we should dig a little deeper into that old case you found."

Lacey stepped into the interrogation room, and Colton closed the door as he followed behind her. The suspect looked up at them, and Lacey thought she detected a touch of fear cross his face before he covered it up with a bland look. He shifted his arms a bit; the design of the cuffs and ring on the table was such to prevent much movement on the suspect's part, and he was unable to rest his elbows on the smooth metal surface. By the time Lacey and Colton had seated themselves in chairs across from him, Jason had managed a look of polite confusion.

"Jason Blyge?" Lacey asked after consulting her tablet and setting it to record.

"That's me." He had a surprisingly high-pitched voice for someone of his stature, and he gave Lacey a quick, almost flirtatious grin.

Colton slapped his hands onto the table with a loud bang! "You were read your rights when they brought you in?" His voice was a vicious snarl.

"Yeah, I--"

"Good, then we don't have to go through that nonsense again, and we can get started." Colton snapped, his gruff voice drowning out what the other man was going to say.

Lacey gave Colton a soft, wordless murmur, then turned to Jason. "You have to excuse my partner." She infused a kind tone to her statement. "He's a Wolf." She lowered her voice as if confiding in the suspect. "You know how they can get."

Jason shifted with a nervous chuckle. "Oh, yeah, I used to work with one." He sounded as if he were afraid to say the word. "But I'm confused. The goons who brought me in didn't tell me why I'm here."

"We'll be the ones asking the questions around here." Colton growled low in his throat and Lacey saw their suspect tremble.

"Detective." She looked right at Jason as she chided her partner. "This is Detective Colton, I'm Lieutenant Anderson, and we just need to ask you a couple questions, is all."

Colton leaned far enough over the table to invade the other man's personal space. "And we don't take kindly to liars." It was a thinly-veiled threat.

Though it unnerved her to do so, Lacey laid a pale hand onto her partner's arm.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Jason stuttered. "I have no problem being cooperative with the law."

"Then this should be easy." Lacey read his full name and current address aloud for the record. "Is this correct?"

"Yes, ma'am," the suspect answered.

"And what is your employment?"

"I'm a window washer."

"I beg your pardon? Do people really pay well for you to do this?" Colton seemed incredulous.

"Well, yeah, windows gotta get cleaned. We do all the windows, like, for the big high rises downtown?" Jason somehow managed to make a statement into a question.

"You mean you're one of those crazy bastards that sits up there all day in those little cages?"

Jason looked from Colton to Lacey and back again before answering his question. "Yes, that's right. It's the only way to clean the windows in buildings like that. The company I work for specializes in it."

"Interesting." Lacey murmured as she made a note in her tablet. "Isn't that frightening?"

The man shrugged. "You get used to it."

"Can you tell us where you were, let's see." Colton snatched his own device out of his pocket and turned it on. He read the date and time aloud.

"I was at home."

"Alone?" Lacey raised her brows.

"Yeah, I'm not married, and my girlfriend had to work so she didn't stay with me the night before."

"We're going to need to talk with her. What's her name?" Colton asked with a ferocious tone.

"Jenna. Jenna Stiles."

"Where were you yesterday, about three am?" Colton's eyes bored into the suspect.

"Three? Likely in bed. I got a job!" Jason gave Lacey a look that said please, make it stop!

"How about this date?" Lacey read off the day and approximate time of the apartment home invasion.

Jason screwed up his eyes for a moment. "Let me think. Well, I was at work."

"All day?" Colton demanded. "Where?"

"I'd have to check my log to be sure, but I think it was Fountain Place that day."

"Your employer can verify this?"

"Sure." Jason answered Lacey, then rattled off the name of the company he worked for. "It's easy enough, we have to log in and out of the scaffold with our I.D. card for safety reasons."

Lacey cut her eyes toward Colton but didn't say anything in response. Colton seemed to be engrossed in whatever notes he was inputting into his tablet. She had programmed an alarm on her tablet before walking into the room, and it pinged as if right on cue. She pulled up the suspect sketch from the database, nudged Colton with her elbow, and pretended to show him the image on her screen. She held the tablet so that it somewhat shielded their faces. Pitching her voice so low that she knew humans couldn't hear it, she whispered, "Look really mad, then we'll both get up and leave for a minute."

He didn't bat an eye, didn't look confused even for the briefest of moments, instead just snarled and jumped to his feet. Again, Lacey laid a cool hand on his arm. It somehow seemed easier to do, this time. Without so much as a word to the suspect, she steered Colton out of the room, slamming the door hard behind her.

Colton held his tongue until they had re-entered the observation room. Only then did he yank his arm from her grasp.

"What the fuck?" As soon as she freed him, he moved to the other side of the tiny booth.

"Thanks for playing along," she replied blandly. "You did good in there. Especially there at the end."

She turned to glance through the glass, watching their suspect squirm in the hard metal chair. She could see beads of perspiration lining his brow under the blazing lights.

"I could have broke him!"

"We'll let him think that this sketch just now came in, then maybe we'll surprise him with the Blayze Sherman connection. That's why I wanted us out of the room for a moment. See how he's uncertain now, wondering what would make us leave in the middle of the interview?"

Colton seemed to pull in his temper long enough to look at the suspect. "Okay, yeah. So what now?"

"Coffee."

"You want coffee?" His voice showed his surprise.

"No, but you do. So go get one, and we'll stand here and watch him sweat while you drink it."

He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, then shrugged and left the room. While he was gone, Lacey contacted the company that Jason claimed to work for, and verified that he had, indeed been on the job at the time of the home invasion. However, Fountain Place was near enough to the crime scene to give her pause. And he had no alibi for the other attacks. There's something off about him, she thought with a sense of unease. I just can't quite put my finger on it.

She also contacted the first victim, finding her at home, to show her both the sketch and the photo I.D. of Jason Blyge. Angelica still had the wariness that Lacey had known before from victims of assault; she wasn't certain it would go away in the near future. The young woman couldn't positively identify Blyge as the man who attacked her, only said that he "might have looked like your drawing." She was unable to reach Dennis Colby or Betsy Smith to show them the images. Frustrated, Lacey turned her back to the impact-resistant glass.

Colton returned a few short minutes later, and to her surprise, he carried two recycled cups in his paw-like hands. "Chai tea," he muttered as he grudgingly handed her the flimsy paper cup. She managed not to flinch when her skin touched his.

She lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "Are you sucking up?" She was somewhat amused.

"I know you prefer it over coffee," he grumbled as if embarrassed to be caught in an act of kindness. "Just trying to be nice."

"I didn't realize you had ever even noticed."

"Hey!" He seemed offended. "I am a detective, you know!" He took a sip of the steaming brew and looked through the glass at their suspect. "Anyway, I kind of figure we're stuck with each other, for now, so I might as well try to make the best of it."

She, too, turned her attention to the man in the window. "I agree." Her voice was almost a whisper.

"Friends?"

"Don't push it, buster." She smiled into her cup of tea.

They spent the next ten minutes drinking in companionable silence before returning to the interrogation room. Lacey noticed that Jason's face, what wasn't covered by hair, was drenched with sweat.

"It's a little warm in here, isn't it?" She commented in a casual way, going to the thermostat by the wall. "These things are never working right!" She pretended to fiddle with the control before lowering the temperature setting a scant few degrees. "Sorry about that." She returned her full attention to the suspect.

After she and Colton settled themselves into their seats, she pulled out her tablet again, turning it on and sliding it across the table so Jason could see the sketch on the screen. His eyes went from the drawing to Lacey's and back again several times before he slid the tablet as far away as his cuffed hands would allow. "What's this all about?"

"We're investigating three cases that seem to have one thing in common." Colton spoke up for the first time since they had re-entered the room, and pushed the tablet back toward the suspect.

"And you think this guy had something to do with it?" Jason's voice seemed to quiver. "And that I somehow know him? What, does he live in my neighborhood or something?"

"I think you do know this guy." Colton's low growl caused all the hair on Lacey's neck to stand on end. "I think you've seen him. Hell, I think you see him every time you look in a mirror!"

"Look, I told you, I have a job! I was at work for sure on Wednesday. Hell, call my boss, he'll tell you!" Jason fidgeted in agitation, causing his handcuffs to rattle on the table's ring. His chair's legs creaked against the bolts in the smooth concrete floor with a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"You have to admit, there's a resemblance." Lacey took up the interview while Colton panted in obvious fury.

Blyge's eyes bored into hers even as he bowed his head and tried to give her an expression of indifference. "I don't know, maybe. But a lot of people probably look like that sketch, as vague as it is!" His protest was a high-pitched whine.

Colton snatched up the tablet, punching the screen hard enough to make Lacey wince. After a few muttered curses, he slammed it back on the metal table. "Have anything to say about that?" His voice was thunderous.

Jason shivered once, then glanced down at the screen and paled. "You think I did this?" He quickly averted his eyes.

Lacey saw that Colton had pulled up a photo from the PERK evidence in their first case. It was a close up shot of Angelica's torn and bloody shoulder. The skin was peeled back in a gruesome way and muscle could clearly be seen. Lacey thought she had seen bone when she was looking at the wound through the camera.

"She gave us a pretty decent description," Lacey's voice was quiet.

"I could never hurt someone like that!" Jason cried out, his nasal-toned voice rising in pitch. "I would never do that!"

Colton slammed his palms on the table again with a loud, hollow sound. "What's going to happen when we talk to your girlfriend, Jason?" Sarcasm oozed from him like sap from a tree. "Is she going to tell us you're a biter?" His furious face was just inches from the suspect's.

"Of course not!"

"Not even in play?" Lacey kept her voice quiet and ignored the redness of Colton's face, taking it as a sign that he was no longer pretending to be angry for the sake of the interview. She knew she had to end the interrogation, and soon. Colton stood and started pacing the floor behind her, his body causing a rush of air to waft over her each time he passed.

"Well, I--" He stammered in response. "I don't know, so maybe I've left a hickey on her neck once in while! Who doesn't? But that don't mean I'm gonna do something like this! Besides, I've never been in trouble before. I don't even have a parking ticket. You can check."

Lacey held up a hand when Colton opened his mouth. She stood, taking a metal key from her pocket. Rather than walking around behind the subject, she leaned over the table to unlock the man's handcuffs. Once freed, he rubbed his wrists with both hands. "You're free to go, Mr. Blyge. We're sorry for the inconvenience. But I have to remind you that this is an ongoing investigation, so don't make any sudden plans to leave town. And you're not to tell Miss Stiles anything about this conversation until after we've spoken with her."

"Yeah, sure, no problem." Jason, obviously fearful of Colton, stood still as a statue.

"Do you know where we can find your girlfriend, Jason?"

"She's at work. She works the E.R. desk at Medical City."

Lacey exchanged glances with Colton. I wonder if that's a coincidence? Both injured victims had gone to Medical City after the attacks. "Thank you for your time." She held open the door and let Jason leave the interview room. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face Colton. She hadn't thought it possible, but his face was even redder than before.

"Why did you just let him go like that?" He demanded in a loud voice.

"We've got nothing to hold him on yet."

"Nothing to hold him on? We haven't even checked his alibis or shown his picture to the vics! We could have held him for the standard 72 without charging him!"

"I checked his work alibi when you went to get coffee. They verify that he was there at work, on the scaffold, just like he said. Our first vic said she couldn't be positive but she thought that the I.D. photo closely resembled her attacker, but she stressed again how it was dark and she never really saw his face."

"What about Dennis Colby or the old lady?"

"I couldn't get them on the phone."

"Fuck!" Colton slapped his palm on the bullet-proof, mirrored glass window.

"They're probably at work or school. We'll try to catch either of them later. We can show the sketch and the picture to the bartender, too. Maybe he'll identify him, save us the trouble of waiting around the others' schedule."

"But now he knows we're onto him. I bet a week's pay he skips town!"

"Don't be so sure." Lacey tried to placate him. "He seemed awful terrified of you! If he is our suspect, he might think twice about going to ground, knowing he'd have you sniffing at his trail."

She knew he was still furious, so she suggested, "Why don't you take a break?"

"What, now?"

"Sure. Go on down to the gym, do the stair stepper or beat the crap out of a heavy bag. Whatever you like to do. Work off some of that anger. Then go to lunch."

"What are you going to do?"

Lacey glanced at her watch. "I'll try to call our friendly bartender. Then I'll probably grab a bite to eat myself." There were a couple restaurants in town that catered exclusively to Vampires, and she hadn't dined out in a long time. She had a thirst for something different.

His eyes narrowed as if he didn't quite believe her. But all he said was, "Sure, you're the boss. See you in an hour."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton knew he should have taken Lacey's advice and gone down to the gym to use up some of his fury in physical exertion. Instead, he found himself making the drive home. He needed his wife, needed to see his kids, and there was nothing like a lunch at home, away from the pressures of the job, to calm him down. Before starting the truck, he sent Becca a quick text message to let her know he was on his way home. That way, if his wife was napping with the kids, she wouldn't think he was an intruder trying to get into the apartment and possibly attack him.

He drove with the windows rolled down, hard rock music blaring as loud as the stock speakers in his pickup would allow. His eardrums throbbed with the beat; he could feel the bass reverberating through his insides. He threaded his way through the midday rush-hour traffic, his slow start-and-stop progress angering him even more. Absently, he pounded the steering wheel in time with the beat, ignoring the pain that turned the skin of his hand a red and livid color. Colton snarled at every traffic light, chafing at every delay.

The moment the smells of home hit his nose, Colton's anger seemed to evaporate like a soap bubble floating too long on the air. Deeply inhaling the scents of his family, he realized that something was off. He found Becca sitting in the living room, watching the TV and the children playing quietly on the floor.

"What's wrong?" He asked immediately, giving Becca a quick kiss.

"Oh, it's Ashley. She has a touch of fever."

"Should I be worried?"

"It's not that high. I gave her some medicine and she's resting now. Probably just a cold or something. What about you? Rough day?"

She followed him into the kitchen, where he rummaged about in the refrigerator, and emerged with the makings for a rare roast beef sandwich, leftovers from the night before. "We had a suspect in interview today." He set the food on the counter and got a plate from the cupboard. "I'm sure he did it, but Anderson's being wishy-washy. But let's not talk about that now. I came home so I could stop thinking about it." Catching her up in a fierce hug, inhaling her unique scent, his whole body seemed to relax. "It's good to be home."

# 7

Lacey had no intention of staying in the office for lunch. Like Colton, she needed a moment to herself, though the interview hadn't angered her as it had her partner. Nevertheless, something was nagging at her about their suspect. He's dirty as hell, she thought as she walked to her car. But she also knew that the district attorney's office demanded a certain amount of proof before they could secure an arrest warrant, and without a positive I.D. of Jason from any of their victims, they didn't have enough to even get permission to search the man's home and vehicle, much less an arrest warrant. Shaun Keller had been out of reach as well, and she'd left an urgent message for him to get back in touch with her. So, for the moment, there was nothing left to do.

Platelets wasn't very far from the police department, though the drive took twice as long during rush hour as it would any other time. It was a very classy establishment that catered to Vampires' tastes, though they served human food as well. They specialized in offering their clientele rare or exotic blood types, from those who still hunted game animals for meat or sport, and ran specials on blood acquired from large mammals who might perish in one of the city's zoos. The small, intimate dining room boasted round tables with tablecloths made from real fabric, aromatic candles in squat holders resembling old-fashioned lanterns, and dim lighting.

Lacey had no trouble finding her favorite corner. She'd been a cop for a great many years, first as a beat drone and later as detective and supervisor, before her promotion to lieutenant. Old habits die hard, even when one was Immortal; the years of training had ingrained her to choose a table facing the door, with a wall at its back. It was now so automatic that she no longer realized she was doing it. The cozy, dimly-lit atmosphere always helped her to relax, and she just gazed at the flickering flame of the candle, drinking in the coppery scents of many different kinds of blood. Her nose, so finely-attuned to hunt the smell of blood, was discerning enough that she could decipher the smell of different animal blood even through the scents of human food and blood coursing through veins.

A young waitress she'd never seen before came to take her order. It wasn't the girl's newness that surprised Lacey, but the fact that the woman was human. She didn't think she'd ever seen a human working in Platelets before, and she assumed they couldn't tolerate the smell. After she'd ordered the chef salad along with a glass of lamb's blood, she pulled out her tablet. She logged in to the police department's remote server, and looked through the case files yet again.

She'd been hoping that the lab reports would be in, but she found nothing new to add to the files. As she waited for her meal to be prepared, she combed through every bit of information they had, even slipping a tiny ear bud out of a slot in the tablet so she could listen to the oral interviews again and again.

Her lunch was served quickly, the salad a bowl of succulent lettuce and greens, piled high with carrots, radishes, onions, chopped hard-boiled egg, thinly-sliced chicken breast, and topped with a thin, spicy Italian dressing and crunchy croutons. Her order of rare blood was served in an expensive crystal goblet. Somehow, the chefs always managed to get the temperature just right.

The first sip was pure heaven. Each animal had its own distinct flavor, as she remembered meat did when she had been a young human. She'd once heard a human officer complaining about the instant coffee in the department's break room, arguing with another coworker that instant coffee just didn't hold a candle to rich, freshly-ground premium coffee. She compared the difference in the taste of blood to what the man had meant when talking about coffee. Any type of animal blood would sustain her, but there was sustenance and there was enjoyment. Lacey sometimes wanted to enjoy her repast as much as she remembered enjoying human food. The human food was good, too, but her taste buds had changed over the years from the vampirococcus virus that coursed through her body, changing and adapting her into the most dangerous of predators.

The virus was still a bit of a mystery to modern-day science. Unlike most viruses, this one seemed to have evolved more like a symbiotic parasite. It would keep its host alive, and maintained at the peak of health, indefinitely. Scientists had yet to discover how the virus could keep its host alive, or how it reproduced itself, especially since Vampires were no longer allowed by law to bite or to 'Turn' humans. There was ongoing research, doctors and medical types studying it, trying to determine if the virus could be modified or otherwise used to prolong human life

She was pushing the last remains of her salad around the bowl when her phone rang. Recognizing Colton's number, she answered the call on hands-free mode. His wide face framed by thick hair appeared on the small display screen of her phone. "Anderson."

"Hey, sorry to bother you. Still at lunch?"

"I was just finishing up. Got something?"

"I got back a little early so I tried calling the vics again. Mrs. Smith was at home, and she said the guy who busted in her door looked a little like the sketch." His voice sounded tinny through the device's speaker.

She pushed her bowl to the opposite side of the table. "What about the others?"

"Still no answer."

"Hmm." Her flat voice conveyed none of her thoughts. "Give me 10 minutes," she decided finally. "We'll contact the DA. Maybe we'll have enough for a DNA warrant at least."

He didn't answer, just hung up the phone. Lacey drained the last bit of liquid from her glass, laid enough money on the table to cover her food as well as a tip, and slid out of the chair. Something was bothering her about Jason Blyge, and she was eager to get to the bottom of it. Though she wasn't sure what a search warrant might unearth, since none of the victims had reported any theft during the attacks, often evidence would come to light in an investigation that had no obvious connection, until all the pieces were fitted into the right place.

When Lacey returned to the department, she consulted her computer to find that one of the lab tests had been posted. The tissue swabs from Angelica's assault had been analyzed, and while it contained human cells, it was also made up of cells that the lab had never seen before. The human DNA had been run through CODIS, the FBI database of DNA samples made up of federal, state, and local individuals who'd ever had cause to be entered into it; this included those applying for or working within certain government or privately-owned employers, anyone who'd ever been arrested or charged with a crime, military personnel, and of course, the Undead. However, CODIS had been unable to find a match.

Linus had appended a note to the report, stating that if they were to find a suspect, an analysis of the subject's DNA could be compared to see if it was a match. He also let her know that he was still working on the unusual blood evidence she had brought him, still certain that the sample was old. He wasn't sure how identifying it could help the case if that were true. Lacey thought she might have just enough to take to the DA's office, at least to get a search warrant and request for Jason Blyge's DNA for comparison.

With a sigh, she remembered days gone by when she could have gone right to the judge with the data she had, and request a warrant to compel a DNA sample from her suspect without involving the DA's office. In recent years, however, judicial restructuring had complicated matters from a cop's perspective, and forced them to filter any warrant requests through the DA's office before they ever reached the judge for a final decision.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Twenty minutes later, she was striding purposefully through the police department, Colton struggling to keep up with her long, smooth gait. The District Attorney's office was housed on a different level of the large building, but kept convenient to the officers sworn to protect and serve the city. Lacey could have simply called on the phone, but she preferred to give her report in person, and she would be prepared to argue the case if need be.

Lacey walked through the doors and greeted the young man sitting at the reception desk. "Hey Kyle, who's available?"

He turned to his computer and tapped the keys in rapid succession. "Joe's schedule is clear all week. Want me to call him for you?"

Joseph Pratt was a young assistant district attorney who'd already earned his J.D. and passed the bar exam, but was continuing his education in appellate courts classes at Texas A&M school of law in Fort Worth. His ultimate goal was to be an elected district attorney.

Lacey had worked with Joe on several cases before, and he was a straightforward young attorney who paid close attention to details and had a strong sense of justice. Joe was also a by-the-book ADA who would require concrete evidence of probable cause before going to a judge for a search warrant.

"Would you see if he's available?"

Kyle reached for the phone. He only spoke for a few moments before gesturing to Lacey and Colton. "He can see you now. Know where his office is?"

Lacey nodded, beckoning Colton as she made her way through the maze of boxy cubicles to the back of the large room. In an office off to one side, she found Joe sitting behind a neatly-organized dark wood desk and just placing the phone back on its cradle. He was a short, stocky man with a cap of fire-red hair and a boyish face. He was also a Shifter who could turn into an owl when it suited him. His large green eyes sparkled as he grinned a greeting, and stuck his hand out to Lacey.

"Hey there, Lieutenant Anderson, great to see you again!" His voice was cultured and animated.

She shook his hand briefly, then indicated her partner. "Detective Scarber." She waited while the men clasped hands. "How's school going?"

"Oh, it's hard work, you know. But I just can't get enough! Did you bring me something new?"

Lacey and Colton seated themselves in plush, red faux leather chairs in front of the desk. She gave him a hopeful smile as she passed her tablet across to him, turned on and revealing a synopsis report that she had put together with all of their case information and insights. Without a search warrant, they would be unable to continue their investigation much farther.

"You're after a warrant?" Joe asked after he finished reading the report, handing the tablet back to her.

"We need to get something to compare to the sample in the lab, and I don't want to give him the chance to hurt someone else. Or worse."

"I'm not sure you have enough to cover a search of his premises," Joe mused, taking a gold pen from a holder on the desk and running his long, talon-like fingers up and down its shaft as he thought. "There was no theft in any of these cases?"

"Not that any of the victims have told us."

"Guy's dirty as sin." Colton spoke up for the first time. "I don't know what he's hiding, but he's involved in this."

"I wish I could trust your gut on this. But the judge will need more than this. We've got enough to compel a DNA sample from him. I'll get your signed warrant for that. But rather than call him to the department, serve it on him at home. It'll give you a glimpse into his world."

"Better than nothing," Lacey muttered to Colton after Joe had left to confer with a judge. "We'll get a sample and have a look around his place. Anything in plain sight is open for the taking."

Colton shifted in his chair as if impatient to get on with it. "As if he'll be leaving anything incriminating lying around when we've already tipped him that he's a suspect! Damn it!"

"Down, boy."

Before Colton could do more than snarl a response, Joe walked back into the office. "Your warrant will be in the system in 15 minutes," he stated. "Get a DNA sample first. If you can get a match, or find anything else you can add to this case, I'll get you an arrest warrant."

Lacey stood. "Great! Thanks for your help, Joe." With a sideways glance at Colton, she indicated that they were through.

He grumbled under his breath during the long walk back to the Major Crimes Unit. Before Lacey went into her office, she grabbed Colton by the arm. "You've got to relax just a little. We can't go in there with you ready to lock the guy up. We have to bide our time."

He took a deep breath and seemed to pull his anger back into himself. "So, what's the plan here?"

"While we're waiting for the warrant, I want you to call Blyge's girlfriend at work. See if you can get anything useful out of her."

"Okay, I can do that." He moved off to his cubicle as Lacey stepped into her tiny office. He's such a hothead! She sat down at her desk and pulled her tablet out of her pocket. I don't know if I can keep him settled for much longer. Lacey considered speaking to the commander, but she knew that in doing so, she would be admitting defeat. Not only that, but she didn't want others under her command to think she couldn't get along with Colton. Keeping an eye on his hair-trigger temper was exhausting, though. She was hoping that soon they would be able to develop a rhythm that would enable them to work more smoothly together.

She set her tablet to send her an alert when the warrant came through, and set it aside on her desk, pulling her laptop closer to her. She pulled up Blyge's file, finding his listed home address and doing a search on the building. She was able to pull up a schematic of his apartment from Public Works and study the layout using the floor plan. It was a modest one-bedroom, one-bathroom home, with an open kitchen, living room, and small dining area. This was, of course, assuming he hadn't made any changes to it during his tenancy.

Colton stepped into her office. "Jenna was at lunch, but she'll be back in less than half an hour. Maybe we can catch her in person while we're waiting for the warrant."

Lacey steepled her first fingers under her chin thoughtfully. "But would she call and give him a heads up as soon as we leave?"

"I think it's a chance we can take." He rested a hip against the corner of the desk. "I checked her before I called, she's never been in trouble except for a speeding ticket when she was younger, paid up way before the due date. I don't think she likes to break the law."

"Maybe if we impress upon her the importance of not speaking to him about this case, and what might happen to her if she does."

"I think I can frighten her enough not to warn him."

She gave a tight smile. "I'm sure you could." She glanced at the tablet, willing it to beep. It remained stubbornly silent. After a moment, she made a decision. "Okay, let's go."

# 8

Once again, Lacey braced herself as she crossed the threshold into Medical City's bustling E.R. This time, however, she had a shadow in the form of Colton, her partner. He had remained stoic and said nothing on the ride over from the station, but he had shifted his weight and opened his mouth as if wanting to say something several times, then just gazing out the window in silence once more. Sliding her eyes to him, she wondered what was on his mind. For it was evident that something was.

Striding through the lobby, she approached the desk and was relieved to see that the young blonde was back from her lunch and manning her usual position. It would save them the time and effort of hunting her down. Jenna looked up, apparently hearing the sound of their footsteps on the tile floor. She seemed startled to see Lacey looking down at her.

"Jenna, I'm Lieutenant Anderson." She palmed her badge and showed it to the woman. "This is my partner, Detective Scarber. Is there someplace a little more...private where we can talk?" Lacey had seen how full the waiting area was when they walked in; it certainly would not do to have an interrogation about multiple crime scenes right here in the lobby.

"I'm not supposed to leave the desk," Jenna stammered.

"Call your supervisor," Colton snarled.

Visibly terrified, the woman turned to the phone on the desk, dropping it three times before she managed to bring it up to her ear. While her attention was diverted, Lacey gave Colton a sideways glance and whispered under her breath, "Ease up a little, will you? We don't need her to have a heart attack."

"She's harboring a criminal." Colton seethed.

"We don't know that yet." The coldness in her eyes was enough to get make him step back a pace.

"Message received, boss."

An older woman stepped through a door behind the lobby desk and approached them. "Is there something the matter, officers?" She asked in a polite tone.

Lacey showed the woman her badge. "We just need to ask Jenna here some questions. She was concerned about leaving the desk unattended." This earned her a grateful glance from Jenna.

"Oh, of course!" The older woman replied. "Take my office, Jenna will show you where it is." She laid a soothing hand on the younger woman's shoulder, easing her out of the desk chair. She took a seat and the phone rang almost at once.

Jenna gestured to them, then swiped her ID badge across a small security pad cleverly hidden in the trim of the door. An almost imperceptible mechanical sound reached Lacey's ears, and the door popped open, revealing a long hallway with evenly-spaced doors along both sides. The second door on the left was the only door not closed, and Jenna led the pair inside.

"This is Martha's office," she said, her voice quiet. "We can talk in here." She waited for them to take seats in front of the desk, then closed the door behind her.

"I'm going to ask you some questions about someone that you know, and I'd like permission to record this," Lacey stated.

"Um, okay, yes, I guess." The young woman seemed discomfited.

Lacey took out her tablet and set it for record. "You know this man, Jason Blyge?" She turned the tablet so Jenna could see the ID image on the screen.

"Yes, of course," she replied instantly. "He's my boyfriend."

"How long have you known him?"

"Um, about six or seven months, I guess." She scrunched up her face as if trying desperately to remember something. "Yeah, closer to seven, I think. I'd just started the spring semester, and one of my friends dragged me out to this party one night. I wanted to stay home and study, but she insisted. I met Jason then."

Consulting her tablet, Lacey asked her if she'd been with the suspect on the morning of Angelica's attack. When the girl answered that she hadn't, Lacey asked, "Did you talk to him at all that night?"

"Yeah, I think I called him a little bit after 10, right before I went to bed. And the next morning, I texted him when I left my apartment, and again when I got here."

"Is that something he makes you do?" Colton's tone was demanding.

"No, not really." She spared him a tight smile. "He just worries about me driving in rush-hour traffic. He does the same thing, to let me know he's made it on site okay."

"And what time was that?" Lacey was making notations in her tablet.

"Um, my shift here starts at 7, but I usually try to be in half an hour early. Sometimes, when the night shift's been really busy, I help them get the paperwork scanned in before they leave."

"So, what time do you leave your apartment?"

"About 6:15 on weekdays. I live on the other side of town, so sometimes it takes me that long. It depends on traffic."

"And you always text him?" Lacey stressed. "You never forget?"

"Well, sure, I do sometimes, but it's kind of a habit now, just something I do before I get out of the car. We're not supposed to use our phones inside." She said this with just enough guilt to let Lacey know that she did, indeed, sometimes use her phone while in the building. Lacey gave her a small smile, encouraging her. "Usually he answers right back, too, because he knows I'll be going inside. He doesn't want me to get in trouble."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton sat in silence, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched as his partner skillfully maneuvered the young woman into being more and more forthcoming with each answer she gave. He noticed how, when Lacey was silent, the other woman often began volunteering information on her own. His thoughts drifted back to his days of training, when he was a fresh young officer just out of the Academy. He realized that his trainer hadn't been quite as skilled as Lacey was during an interview. I could learn a thing or two from her, he grudgingly thought.

As much as he wanted to chime in and ask a few pointed questions of his own, this time, he held his tongue. He absorbed what was going on in the small office, noticing Lacey's use of body language as she began to build a rapport with the interviewee, and he witnessed the exact moment when Lacey and Jenna connected. It was something he'd been taught while in school, but never before had he seen anyone do it in quite as effective manner as his new partner.

He was startled from his thoughts by Lacey standing up. She held her hand out to Jenna, who shook it briefly, and said, "Thank you, Miss Stiles. I have to ask you not to speak to Mr. Blyge until you get home this evening. It's very important."

"He might know something about a crime? Of course, I won't say anything," she replied quickly.

Lacey gestured to him, then glided out of the office. She moved with an almost effortless grace, which always made him feel clunky and clumsy next to her. He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand and without a word, he followed her back to the parking lot.

Once they were strapped in to her kick-ass car, she glanced over at him. "Impressions?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I mean, at first, that whole text me as soon as you get to work bit would have fit right in, but it didn't seem like it was all his idea. More of a mutual thing, it sounded like."

"I agree," she replied. "I know quite a few people, especially those who have long commutes, who do the same thing."

"And it sure didn't sound like she was trying to hide anything." With a quick indrawn breath as she expertly steered the car around a vehicle driving too slowly to suit her, he once again grasped the handle above his window in a death grip. Will I ever be able to get used to her driving? She may be Immortal, but I'm not. Not quite. He stole a quick glance at her, wondering if she would take off his arm if he tried to turn on the radio. Something, anything, to distract him from this wild ride. He leaned in an imperceptible way toward the controls on the dash between them, and her hand flashed out, faster than he could see, to cover up the controls.

"You want music?"

"Yeah, or news, or something. Just a little noise."

She turned the knob, and a local 24-hour news station could be heard. It helped to calm his nerves, but only marginally. Without realizing what he was doing, he tapped his fingers in rhythm on his knee, still clutching the "chicken stick" but being unable to admit to her that her driving frightened him. To distract himself, more than any desire to get to know her better, he asked, "Where did you learn to interview like that?"

"What?" She seemed startled by his question.

"Well, I was just watching you back there. I could see exactly when you won her trust. Not to mention that whole thing of getting her to offer up information without being questioned directly about it."

She shrugged her shoulders as if to make light of it. "Well, as for that, it's just human psychology. Most people can't stand silence, so if you want to get more information from them, the key is to remain quiet. Often, they will talk just to fill the silence, and volunteer something that you might find useful, even something you might not have thought to ask them. Didn't you take human psychology at the Academy?"

"Yeah, but I didn't have a very good teacher." Or maybe I wasn't a very good student. "Even my trainer wasn't as skilled at interviewing as you are. Like I said, I could literally see the moment when you connected with her."

"That just comes from a very long time of interacting with humans," she said almost ruefully. "I've had a lot of practice.

"Yeah, about that--" He quit talking abruptly.

She took her eyes off the road to glance at him. "What?"

"Never mind," he mumbled, mentally kicking himself. Had he just been about to bring up Greece? While alone in a car with her, and no one else knowing where they were? Can you be any more stupid, Scarber? Geez, really? He saw her eyes narrow as if she didn't believe him, and he was happy when they arrived at the suspect's apartment just a few minutes later.

"You want lead on this?" She offered as she parked the car in front of the apartment building.

He shook his head. "I'll let you take it. Who knows, maybe I'll learn something else."

She stepped from the car, making it look effortless, while it took Colton a bit more time to get his feet under him on the pavement and heave his bulk out of the low-riding sports car. He never understood why people would want a car so low to the ground that one had to fall into it, and then struggle to get out again. That's why he liked his pickup, a big burly vehicle for a big burly man.

The vehicle's alarm system chirped behind them as they moved up the walk toward the lobby door. This building, though still an older one, was in much better condition than Mrs. Smith's place; the automatic lock on the lobby door was still intact, and the only way to get inside was to call one of the tenants to buzz them in, or find the superintendent's unit. Lacey paused, as if in thought, looking over the surnames above each button. Finally making a choice, she hit the buzzer under the name 'The Temples', and waited in silence by the speaker.

A young woman's voice answered. "Yes, can I help you?" Her voice sounded mechanical through the intercom.

"Mrs. Temple, this is Lieutenant Anderson of the Dallas Police. I need access to your building to speak with someone. Will you buzz me in?"

"No problem." In an instant, the mechanical sound of the lock could be heard. Lacey tugged on the door, opening it. She held it open for him after she stepped through. Fortunately, the elevator in the building was working as well, and he waited until the doors closed before asking her the question.

"How did you know someone would be there?"

She glanced at him as she answered. "The other names were just a first initial with the last name. This one looked almost new, and it said 'The Temples', as you would do if you had a family. But in this part of town, the only family would likely be a newlywed couple, maybe one with a small child or two, and often the mother stays at home while the father works."

He couldn't fault her logic, but he was finding himself even more impressed by her skills. Never did he expect to be impressed with her when he learned he was to be partnered with her. Now, however, he was beginning to, albeit reluctantly, consider her to be his partner. She had skills and abilities that complemented his, and he found himself wondering if they could work together in a way that meshed both sets of skills completely. He imagined, if they could, they would be the most formidable team on the department.

If only we could get past the white elephant in the room, he thought once again, referring to the ugly incident in Greece which, from what he understood, had actually been precipitated by the ancestors of his own pack, rather than the Vampires, as most of his pack would like him to believe.

He had been told the story by his grandfather, who, on his deathbed, had told him the true account of what had happened. It had always been an embarrassment to the pack, and his pack Alpha had wanted his grandson to know the truth, in the hopes that, someday, a truce of sorts could be reached.

Lacey's loud knock startled him from his reverie. The hollow sound echoed dully through the hallway. Impatient, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. She knocked again, and he listened intently, but his sharp ears could detect no movement from behind the door. Lacey glanced back at him with a questioning look, and he shook his head. She knocked a third time, loudly enough that the elderly man in the unit right across the hall from their suspect's door opened his own.

"Whaddya want?" He demanded, peering myopically at them over the rim of his glasses.

"We're looking for Mr. Blyge," Lacey replied, a tone of politeness in her voice.

The man looked the two of them over carefully. "Well, if you're friends of his, you ought to know he's at work! He won't be home until this evening."

Lacey put up her hand in Colton's direction, stopping him before he could speak. "We just thought maybe he'd come home for lunch." She was apologetic. "We didn't mean to bother you."

"Now you've made me miss half the Price is Right!" He slammed his door without waiting for a response. Lacey gave a small chuckle.

As they walked down the hallway to the elevator, Colton found his voice. "If I get that old and cranky, I'm giving you permission to put me out of my misery." He glanced back down the hallway as the elevator doors opened. "And everyone else's!"

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey chuckled in real amusement. For the first time, she realized that maybe being partnered up with Colton might not be so bad. As they returned to her car, she wondered what their next step should be.

"Maybe we catch him at work." Colton mused from the passenger side.

"Interesting," Lacey replied, remembering that his alibi for one of the incidents was that he had been at work. "Yes, I think I'd like to see how his work area is set up."

She spoke aloud to the car, which she had synced with her tablet and the laptop in her office, instructing it to call the company Jason Blyge worked for. A receptionist answered the call right away.

"May I help you?" Her voice sounded far-away through the radio speakers of the car.

Lacey pitched her voice in a way that she knew would come across the best on her hands-free. "This is Lieutenant Anderson with the Dallas Police. I'd like to know if Jason Blyge is at work today, and where I can find him."

"Of course, Lieutenant." A tapping of computer keys could be heard. "I think I spoke to you before?" The woman made the statement sound like a question. "Yes, Jason clocked in this morning, and he's scanned into the scaffold at the Bank of America Plaza. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I do," Lacey answered politely. Anyone who lived in Dallas was familiar with the building, which boasted green strip lighting at night around the edges and marking the concave corners of the structure.

"You can ride the elevator to the top floor, which is maintenance access. The door to the roof should be open, the crews are required to do that for safety reasons."

"Thank you. Can you tell me, does Mr. Blyge work with a partner?"

"That depends. Some of the bigger jobs, we'll send out a team. But often he prefers to work alone."

After disconnecting the phone, she exchanged quick glances with Colton. "Likes to work alone, does he?" She set the car to auto drive and began calling up the address of the building in question.

"What are you thinking?"

She shook her head. "Not sure, but his alibi for the home invasion at Mrs. Smith's house was that he was at work at Fountain Place. That's not very far away from her apartment building. It's a possibility that he slipped out, committed the crime, and then just came back to work, without anyone being the wiser."

"He said he has to scan his card in and out of the scaffold for safety reasons. That way, I guess, if he doesn't scan out at the proper time, they can send someone to check his welfare."

"I suppose." She returned her attention to the road even though the vehicle was driving for her. "But I'd like to see the setup, and look for ways that he might have been able to slip out for a half hour or so."

"I like the way you're thinking." Colton shifted in his seat, seeming more comfortable now that she wasn't doing the driving. "Who knows, we might be able to spot something that will break his alibi."

The enormous 72-floor building was one of the tallest buildings in Dallas, and a familiar part of the city skyline. The glass and steel walls glinted in the afternoon light. Looking up, even Lacey's sharp eyes couldn't see the small scaffold cages built into the sides of the building for the purpose of maintaining the windows, for cleaning or for replacing damaged panes. For a moment, Lacey stopped, enthralled at the thought of anyone working in such hazardous conditions. The wind alone in Dallas was difficult enough, not even factoring in the heavy rain that often came their way. She had an innate fear of heights, something left over from her long-ago life as a human.

Colton, not noticing that she had stopped, moved a few steps beyond her before he realized that she was no longer striding next to him. He looked back at her, a look of confusion crossing his face. "What's up?" She pulled herself out of her reverie, and just shook her head. "Afraid of heights?" He asked.

"Apparently," she replied absently. "I never really thought about it before now."

"I can do this myself," he offered.

"No," she said, harsher than she'd intended to. "Let's just get this over with."

They entered the building and flashed badges at the security guard sitting at the desk, manning the cameras. "I need access to the roof to speak with one of your window washers," Lacey informed her.

"Oh, there are a couple of them up there today," the woman said. "I think they're trying to get it all done again before the weather turns for the winter."

Sensing an opportunity, Lacey rested one elbow on the tall portion of the squared-off U-shaped desk the uniformed woman was sitting behind. "Tell me, do they have to sign in and out with you?"

"They used to. But a few months ago, the building issued each of them their own key cards. It allows them access to the building after hours, as well as the roof doors. It's made my job a lot easier, since I don't have to run up there every time they want a cigarette break or something."

Noting the camera monitors situated on the desk, Lacey asked, "Do you have camera access of the roof?"

"Sure, at the access door. Nothing actually on the roof, though."

"Does it record?" Colton spoke up.

"Naw, none of the cameras do, they're just for us to be able to monitor. I think people used to go up into that stairwell and smoke, after they passed the laws that you couldn't smoke indoors anymore. It was bad enough when they did it in the garage downstairs." The woman handed Lacey a small metal key.

"Thanks," Lacey said, turning to the elevators and gesturing for Colton to follow. She inserted the silver key into the mechanism, the car's doors slid silently closed, and after she felt upward movement begin, she said, "Too bad there's no recording on that door. It could have made it very easy to verify if Jason was truly on the roof when he said he was."

"Yeah." Colton rubbed his chin as he thought. "It pisses me off that places like this, they spend all that kind of money on a security system and it doesn't record. I don't get it!"

"They always assume there's going to be a human being there to watch the screens." Lacey had a bit of experience with security guards in her many years of working for the police department. Some of them were good, intelligent people, others not so much. But she also understood the mentality of people who owned places like this; they were often forced by inadequate budgets to choose the cheapest alternative available for security purposes, and sometimes, that meant equipment that only monitored instead of recording.

Colton scoffed, as if in disbelief. It took less than a minute for the elevator doors to open again, depositing them on the top floor. It was a floor not open to regular people and contained a multitude of secure broadcasting mechanisms, maintenance equipment for the elevators, the building's central heating and cooling machinery, and the water purification system. The loud, mechanical rumbling made conversation impossible. Lacey hesitated, ever so briefly, before opening the door hiding a short flight of stairs that led to the roof.

At the top of the stairs was another door, and when Lacey didn't open it right away, Colton reached across her and grabbed for the handle. A wide beam of sunlight sent a bright triangle down the staircase. Colton stepped through the door first, holding it for Lacey.

"Thanks," she murmured. Her earlier admission of a fear of heights now embarrassed her, but she appreciated the fact that Colton would have undertaken this interview on his own, had she asked him to. Her confidence in him inched just a bit higher.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Not knowing which side of the building Blyge would be working on made finding him that much harder. Winds buffeted them both as they made their way from the center of the building toward the edge. Understanding his partner's fear of heights, though not sharing it, Colton stepped gingerly toward the edge of the roof. It was edged with a two foot high lip, topped with a sturdy barrier fence made up of two rows of heavy-gauge steel pipes. Still, he was cautious as he approached, getting a tight hold of the fence with both hands before slowly leaning over the edge.

The winds whipped even harder here, and strands of his long black hair swept into his face, stinging his skin like a thousand needles. He felt his slacks and the long sleeves of his button up shirt flapping with force against him, and assumed that his shirt tails were doing the same. Not willing to let go of the safety barrier, he shook his head several times, attempting to rid his face of the hair blocking his view, but it was no use. The wind seemed to be coming from all directions at once. He squinted, but could see nothing along this side of the building.

Stepping back from the edge, he shook his head at Lacey, who had come to a stop about halfway from the door leading to the safety below. If he didn't know any better, he would have said her face looked even more pasty than usual, and, though it was almost indiscernible, he swore he saw her tremble in fear. She's not afraid of ME, one like those who nearly killed her, but she's afraid to fall? He stepped closer to her so he could be heard over the roar of the wind. "Nothing there. I'm going to check the other sides. You stay here, I'll be right back."

"No." He almost couldn't hear her voice. She laid a cool hand on his arm, and it seemed that this time, the act of doing so didn't repulse her. "I'll go with you."

He just nodded, and his respect for her increased dramatically. He watched her take a deep breath, and begin to follow him to check each side of the building. Working clockwise, it was the third time Colton leaned over that he saw the suspended scaffolding hanging from thick steel wires. He estimated Blyge might have been ten or twelve stories below them. Glancing back at Lacey, who had remained several paces away from the edge, he gave her a thumbs-up before leaning over the edge again.

Cupping one hand around his mouth, he took in a deep breath and yelled with all his might, "Yo!" His voice seemed to echo half-heartedly once or twice before fading away into the wind. There was no response from the scaffold. Colton hesitated, not sure of any other way he could get the attention of anyone who was in the cleaning apparatus. Then, he smiled as an idea came to him.

He pulled a Leatherman multi-tool from his trouser pockets. It was the sort of thing available almost anywhere, which could be folded out into a pair of pliers, had a knife blade, screwdrivers, and a bottle opener all in one handle. Moving to the steel cable suspending the scaffold from a mount on the roof, he took the tool and rhythmically banged it against the wire. One, two three, pause. One, two, three, pause. He did this a number of times before stopping and waiting, one hand grasping the wire.

Before long, he felt a slight ringing vibration in the cable he held in his hand, and he released it and turned to face Lacey. "I got his attention!" He yelled, just before the motorized winch engaged with a loud sound of metal on metal. He stepped back, instinctively placing himself between Lacey and whomever might be in the scaffold. The noise of the winch grated on his nerves as well as his sensitive ears, and he resisted the urge to clamp his hands over them.

A few minutes passed, and the scaffold framework came into view. Colton beckoned to Lacey before it came to a stop. It, too, was made of round pipe, in a rectangular basket shape, with thick steel grating wrapped around it and forming the bulk of the sides. The top pipe reached just over Blyge's waist, and Colton saw that the man was wearing a thick nylon harness across his chest and around each leg. Several white buckets containing some type of cleaning solution were also in the gondola, along with several long-handled squeegees. Blyge was alone.

Lacey, evidently overcoming her fear, even if for a brief moment, had stepped closer to the apparatus in order to observe Blyge's protocols as he stepped from the gondola. He took in hand a white plastic key card attached to a ring on his one-piece uniform, which was strung on a retractable cable. With the movements of one well-accustomed to doing so, he swiped the card through a tiny reader mounted on one arm of the basket, and when the indicator light went from red to green, his harness unclipped itself from the safety rail and he stepped from the car with the ease of long practice.

Rather than trying to yell over the howling wind, Lacey gestured to the two men and began to make her way back to the door leading to the interior of the building. It was obvious to Colton that she didn't want to spend one moment longer than necessary out on the treacherous roof. He shrugged to himself; after all, he was afraid to fly, though he would rather chew off his own arm than admit that fact to anyone. But, aware of the potential for violence from the man they were there to interview, he stayed step in step with Blyge, even squeezing himself next to the other man going down the staircase. He would take no chances that the suspect might go after Lacey while her back was turned.

Once they had left the noisy equipment room for the tiny foyer housing the single elevator, it was quiet enough for them to talk.

"What can I do for you, officers?" The man tried for a congenial attitude and failed. The use of the word officers, though they had spoken to Blyge just yesterday, enraged Colton. The man doesn't even have enough respect to remember the cops who suspect him of several crimes! He must have made a small sound, for Lacey gave him a sideways glance, compelling him into silence. Fuming, he let her take over the interview while he took out his tablet to make notes.

Lacey had pulled out her own tablet, and was waiting while it spit out a paper copy of the warrant to compel a DNA sample. She handed it over to Blyge, who looked at it in confusion.

"I don't understand, what is this?" He finally asked, avoiding direct eye contact with either one of them.

"It's a court order to get a DNA sample from you," Colton growled, no longer able to contain himself. He nodded at Lacey, who had pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves, and held a plastic vial containing four cotton swabs on long sticks, used to rub the inside of the cheek to painlessly remove some of the suspect's epithelial cells. "Open wide."

Blyge's face had taken on the look of a man fearful for his life, but it seemed that he realized he had no other choice. If he refused, they could then arrest him on failure to comply with a warrant, and even throw in obstruction of justice charges. In that case, he could be restrained in the jail's booking area and a blood sample forcibly taken from him. Colton silently dared him to refuse; nothing would make him happier than to slap a pair of handcuffs on the seedy man, even roughing him up just a bit in the process.

His thoughts must have been clear on his face, for the other man opened his mouth and turned to Lacey. With efficient movements, she rubbed the swabs briskly against the inside of their suspect's cheeks, both of them, using all four swabs to guarantee a large enough sampling. When she was through, Colton could see the man rubbing his cheeks with his tongue as if he felt violated. He felt a slight sense of smugness.

"I tell you, I didn't do anything," he protested again as Lacey sealed the swabs in their container and initialed and dated it. "I was right here at work, just like I told you!"

"How does that thing work?" Lacey asked as she pointed to the key card hanging from a belt loop on his uniform.

"Well, just like any other security key, I guess," the man stammered. "I mean, I swipe it once I'm in the car and my harness is in place. Then it locks the harness ring until I swipe the card again."

Now Colton could understand the need to have the card on a secure and retractable lanyard; if the man lost his grip on the card while trying to leave the gondola, he would be stuck in it until someone else with the proper card could come to let him out. Also, if the man fell or was taken ill while in the car, the key card being attached to him would enable rescue crews to get him out without cutting through his harness.

"I assume it logs each time the card is swiped?" Colton folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but it's all wireless. The logs go right to the office, they're not kept here."

Lacey nodded. "Then, we won't keep you from your work any longer." Her voice held a dismissive tone. "I still advise you not to take any trips for the time being."

Blyge's eyes grew wide but he said nothing, just turning on his heel and heading toward a small restroom off the elevator foyer. Lacey had already pushed the down button to summon the elevator, and in moments, the silver, highly polished doors opened with a soft beep. With a gesture, Colton held his arm over the car's infrared sensor, waiting until Lacey had stepped inside before following her. As they listened to the quiet bing of each floor passing, he turned to her.

"So, our next stop is to his office?"

She gave him a tight, humorless grin. "You read my mind."

# 9

Colton was silent on the ride over to McCormick Shine, the company that was contracted to do the majority of the window washing in the city. Lacey had been surprised to find that there were several companies that did this sort of work; McCormick's seemed to be the busiest. In appreciation at how her partner had handled himself on the roof, she put the car on auto drive and turned the radio on to a popular music station. They were halfway through the snarl of late afternoon traffic when his head began to bob with the beat.

She kept her eye on the road ahead, a habit long-ingrained from a time gone by when you HAD to steer the car. Lacey wasn't certain if her partner's aversion to her driving was due to the fact that he, too, remembered the days when people actually did drive their cars, and technology hadn't advanced far enough to prevent the horrible accidents that came with monotonous regularity, or if it was because he was young enough to have never known people to use manual driving rather than the auto drive. In her opinion, doing it yourself was just much more fun.

Whichever the case may be, she could see with her peripheral vision that he was beginning to relax. She cracked a window and let the cooling air and the sounds of the city in. She could feel the rush of wind on her skin, and her hair ruffle with it.

"Why are we bothering with getting these logs?" Colton spoke up as if afraid he would forget the question if he didn't ask right this minute.

"Well, so that we can see if he scanned out of the cage around the time of Mrs. Smith's home invasion." She assumed that fact had been obvious.

"I know that, but would he have told us about it if he were guilty? If there was a way we could break his alibi with the logs?"

"It's not like a state secret. For all he knew, we already knew that it kept a log of who went in and out. If I'd known more about the process, I would have asked the receptionist about it the first time I talked with her."

"You have a point there. Still, it seemed like he volunteered this information too easily."

"Most criminals are, deep down, not very smart," she said as the car chimed for her attention; they were coming abreast of a large parking area, and auto drive couldn't operate in a parking lot except as an aide for backing up into a space. "That's why they get caught."

"You are so right about that!" He chuckled.

Lacey expertly parked the car, and they made their way across the black, pitch-sticky pavement that had the smell of fresh tar. "This place makes a lot of money," Lacey commented, looking down at the smooth dark lot.

Colton took a moment to bend down and put his fingers to the solid surface. "I'd say this has only been here a few months, at most," he agreed. "I guess I never gave much thought to how the high-rises kept their windows clean. I bet they pay good wages."

"Well, let's see what they have to say about Mr. Blyge."

The building had a facade of gray-toned, smooth river rock, with huge windows covering what seemed to be entire walls, except in those areas where weight-bearing was needed. Vinyl trim, in a drab color that reminded Lacey of automotive primer, surrounded the windows, the door frame, and the roof overhang around the entire structure. The windows sparkled, as one would expect from a business whose living was made by cleaning the glass of other buildings. A cheerful bell rang when Lacey opened the door.

A short, pert woman sat behind an over-sized oak desk covered with live, flowering plants. A gigantic, multi-line phone sat next to a flat screen computer monitor. The brunette woman had a hands-free unit on her head, complete with earbud and small microphone near her prim and lipsticked lips. She smiled and held a hand up in greeting when she saw Lacey and Colton, making it obvious she was in the middle of a phone call. Her fingers flew across the keyboard of her computer.

"Thanks for calling McCormick," she said pleasantly, then touched a button on the phone.

"Welcome to McCormick Shine! How can I help you?" Lacey pulled her badge. "Oh, I bet you're the one was talking to earlier! Did you find Jason okay?"

"Yes, ma'am, we sure did." Lacey pulled out her tablet. "I need to get the key card scans for this job Mr. Blyge did. Not clock ins but the scaffold log." She read off the date of Mrs. Smith's home invasion.

"Sure, I can get those to you in a jiffy!" She clicked a few keys on the computer, and the sound of a printer from somewhere under the desk could be heard.

"You ever notice any discrepancies in the logs?" Colton asked her. "False readings, glitches, anything like that?"

"Oh, I don't audit the logs, Jessica does. But she's out sick today. Caught a touch of the flu or something. But she's never mentioned anything like that, as far as I know."

"Any way to falsify the scan at the other end?"

The woman shook her head at him. "I don't know about that, I really don't know much about the system. You'd have to ask one of the IT guys who set it up."

The printer stopped its gentle purring, and her head disappeared briefly under the desk. When she straightened, she had several pages of paper in her hand. Using a stapler hidden in a recess of the desktop, she attached the papers together with a snap and handed them to Lacey, who gave a small groan. Real paper. I thought everyone had gone electronic?

"Thanks for your help." Colton turned his back to the woman and headed for the door. Lacey followed.

Once they were back in her car, Lacey handed Colton the list. "Paper!" She said in dismay. "Can you believe that? I didn't know anyone used it for files anymore."

"Probably they don't have to access the logs very often." He started rifling through the pages. "And when they do, it's on a computer linked to their system. They probably don't have much need for a print out of them."

She could see his point, but it didn't make her much happier at the prospect of slogging through the pages. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him flip to a page, then to the previous one, and back again.

"What's the date and time of that home invasion?"

"I don't remember the time." She pitched her voice to alert the vehicle's on board computer system. "Computer, access case file U-8192118S." A soft tone alerted her that the information was on screen. "Check it out there, you'll find it." He leaned closer to the screen nestled in the dash between them, squinting to read the small print. He flipped a few more pages.

"Damn it, son of a bitch!"

At his outburst, she grabbed at the wheel, forgetting that the car was on auto drive and thinking a collision with another vehicle was imminent. However, when he threw the pages onto the dash, she relaxed.

"What?"

"According to this, Blyge was just where he said he was, up on a scaffold hanging from Fountain Place. So he's completely alibied for the home invasion!"

"Not 100 percent." Lacey's voice was quiet. "I've been thinking on how it would be possible to falsify the log. I want someone from CED over at McCormick's, to run a full check on their system and make sure nothing was tampered with. But, I think there's another way."

Colton looked up from the computer, where he had been sending a message to the Computer and Electronics Division requesting a tech. "How do you mean?"

"He scans the card to enter the gondola, and it unlocks the safety ring for his harness, right?"

"That was the impression I got."

"So, what happens if he doesn't actually secure the harness line to the ring and swipes his card again? Can the safety ring verify if the harness was placed in it when it was locked?"

"Oh, you mean he scanned in like he was hooking up, but really didn't? So his harness wouldn't be attached to the safety ring?"

"Right. Then he could come and go at will without having to scan the card."

He rubbed his chin, lost in thought. "I'll append that to the CED geeks, have them check it out. Do you really think he'd be that stupid? That's a long way up to have no safety measure."

She shrugged one shoulder. "It's a possibility I'd like to check off or have as a bargaining chip, one way or the other."

"I got you." He turned back to the computer and finished his task.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey drove to the lab first. Colton had been there many times before, but he never did like the place. It always felt as if someone were watching him through the opaque glass walls. Not to mention the smells of the place: the salty scent of sweat, the acrid bite of formalin and other chemicals used to preserve samples of skin and tissue, and the flat, metallic smell of human blood. Rather than make him hungry, as one might think, the overpowering scents of the lab often left him feeling a bit nauseated. He hated his trips to the lab.

Lacey strode through the lobby with her long-legged stride, and he struggled, with his unusual wolf-like lumber, to keep up with her. She never hesitated as she hopped onto one of the escalators, something he knew he would never be able to do. The floor isn't supposed to move on its own, he thought. After his customary pause to get both legs properly under him, he took a step onto the moving platform, reaching for the hand rail with both hands. Lacey looked back at him, a perplexed and curious look on her face. He tried to evade her but knew she wouldn't let it go.

"So, you don't really like heights, I don't much care for moving steps." He said it quietly enough that none of the humans who were nearby would be able to hear it, but he knew that she did. "I won't tell if you won't tell."

A look of understanding passed between them, and Lacey turned to stare at the backs of the two people in front of her. Colton gritted his teeth until they reached the 5th floor, and sighed in relief to feel solid ground under his feet once again. He took a moment and shook himself, much like a dog shaking the dust from its coat. It was an instinctual movement that always made him feel better when he came across something that stuck icy fingers of fear into his spine. He felt a slight embarrassment that he had told the Vampire of his fear, but, he thought, she had shared something personal with him earlier, and quid was pro quo in his book.

One they arrived at Blood and Tissue, Lacey went right to Linus' station. Colton had never worked with the man, though stories of his excellent and often quick work had reached him even when he was a drone cop.

"Nice to meet you, after all this time," he told the other man, sticking out his large hand. Linus shook his hand with enthusiasm.

"How are things going on over there, in the, what are they calling it?" Linus asked.

"The Undead Unit." Colton sneered as he said it. "They think they're rewarding us by setting up a special unit, but they have to be snide about naming it."

Lacey laid a hand on his arm. "I don't think anything else would have sounded any less derogatory." He looked down at her hand, and after a moment, she let him go.

"Did you bring me something?" Linus spoke up.

Lacey pulled the DNA kit from the small shoulder bag that she tended to wear cross-body, and used her tablet to scan the bar code on the vials containing Blyge's mouth swabs. Linus did the same. "This is a swab from a suspect, known as Jason Blyge, you'll find all his pertinents in the meta-data." Any information she entered in her tablet that was flagged as being connected with their suspect would be included in the bar code system, making it easier for lab techs who had to handle massive amounts of evidence that came their way each day.

Linus took the kit. "I'll get on this right away."

"I want you to run it through CODIS and against that unknown DNA you pulled from the tissue sample I sent in earlier."

"Your gut telling you something?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "But it would definitely be helpful to have something to tie him to that attack. The vic can't really identify him in a lineup, she says it was too dark."

"All right!" Linus clapped his hands together. "I'll let you know as soon as I have something to tell you. Might be a few days, we just had a round of new Academy recruits to put through the system."

Though DNA testing had improved over the years, and became cost-effective enough, samples were now taken from a wider variety of people: anyone in law enforcement, those in the military, politicians, people suspected or convicted of a crime, those in jail, and of course, the Immortals. Even recruits to the police academy were required to offer up their DNA. Once in the lab, each sample would undergo the process of DNA profiling and therefore be stored forever in the database of CODIS.

From his studies at the Academy, Colton knew as much as the next person about human DNA. A large percentage of the population had around 99% similar DNA; what was used in forensic studies was the very small percentage that was unique to each person. PCR and STR testing could provide a fingerprint of sorts of certain locations on individual chromosomes. And that was as far as he understood the whole genetics process.

He also knew that the DNA of any registered Undead was stored in the database, likely right next to the country's worst and lowest criminal offenders, knowing how the majority of politicians felt about the Immortal souls that shared their planet. Just a few decades ago, the DNA of any Immortal was of incredible interest to scientists and politicians alike. Science had studied their genetics for years, ostensibly to learn how to extend the human lifespan and cure diseases, but he had always thought they were looking for a way to give the human lifespan to the Immortals instead. He loved conspiracy theories.

In his line of work, DNA had become essential. It was recovered at crime scenes with ease, tested in labs in a rapid way, and juries leaned heavily on it for conviction or acquittal. Colton could remember a time when, though he wasn't in law enforcement at the time, DNA hadn't even been admissible in court cases. Now, it was akin to a body in a homicide case a hundred years ago: no DNA, little chance for a conviction.

Lacey nudged him with her elbow, and he nodded a goodbye to Linus as he followed her out the door.

# 10

Lacey parked her car in the parking garage, and stepped from the vehicle with ease. Knowing that it took her partner more than just a mere moment to heave his bulk out of her luxurious seat, she waited for him to stand and close the car door before she said, "I want to go down to CED."

"I already sent a tech over there."

"I know. But I want to talk to them about the system that's set up in the gondolas, maybe learn a bit more about the way they work. If it's possible to tamper with the logs and how easy or difficult it might be."

"All right." Colton stretched his arms and arched his back as they walked. "It's been a while since I've been down there."

The Computer and Electronics Division, the Geek Squad, was located in the basement of the cavernous police department building to control access to the computer networking area, and to insure the proper regulation of temperature for all the major computer servers. Lacey and Colton scanned their badges in the elevator before it started its descent toward the subterranean level. After just a few moments, the doors opened and deposited them into a dimly-lit foyer with dark brown carpeting from wall to wall.

Just ahead was a single, large, double door with an electronic reader. If it so happened that anyone not associated with the police department managed to get the elevator to bring them to the floor, this was as far as they would be able to get. The double door was as strong as a bank vault, though the opaque, bullet-proof glass windows allowed some light to seep out from the room beyond. Once again, the two officers swiped their badges; the camera built into the electronic reader would have registered there were two of them and required verification from both before it would allow them through.

Inside, the space smelled bland, as if there was almost an absence of scent. Lacey knew part of the reason for that was the supercharged air filtration system that ran on a continuous basis, so that there was never so much as a speck of dust in the large room. It wasn't quite a Class A clean room, but it was damn close.

The techs who worked in this bunker, as well as anyone visiting, as they intended to do, were all required to first pass through a series of air-lock doors, one of which hit them with a blast of air in order to flush dirt and debris that might be in their hair, or on their clothing or boots. On the way out, the airlock would also scan them, checking that they hadn't slipped anything into their pockets or bags.

The walls were a blinding white in color, and the overhead lights just added to the brightness. Each side of the long room contained light brown counter tops, which were littered with a number of different items, most of them resembling the inside of a computer or mother boards. Also at each work station was a sophisticated microscope; some of the chips in today's electronics were so small that the microscope was necessary for removing or replacing them on the circuit boards. Lacey would never figure out how people could stand to work in such a secure and strict environment.

The techs all appeared to be busy, but a black-haired tech looked up from her microscope and waved. Her hair was tied at her neck, creating a long tail down the middle of her back. As she stood from the ergonomically designed computer chair and stretched like a cat, she beckoned them over.

Her name was Jessica Jackson, whom Lacey had worked with on a case a few years ago. When Lacey and Colton had crossed the space between the door and her station, she stuck her hand out in a friendly way.

"Hey, Lace! How's things?" Her voice held a slight touch of New England.

Lacey shook her hand, and while Colton did the same, she commented, "Hey, J.J. You know, people just can't stop breaking the law."

"I know, right?" She said it as if it were a single word. Lacey chuckled; in her lifetime she had been able to watch trends in hair, clothing, and speech patterns go in and out of style in a cycle. Now, it seemed, mannerisms from the early 2000's were all the rage. Before Lacey knew it, they would be speaking aloud in text language, saying Oh-em-gee instead of saying the entire phrase. I hated those years. Language is bad enough to learn, much less throwing in crap like text slang. "The tech you sent over to Fountain Place isn't back yet. So, what can I do you for?"

Lacey explained the key card setup for the Fountain Place building and scaffolds, and Jessica pulled up the blueprint of the building. Since the scaffold gondolas were permanent structures, the operational plans had been filed with the city inspector's office in the permit application the last time the building was renovated. Lacey tried to look at her screen, but the jumble of colored lines and numbers meant nothing to her. The only things she could recognize was the words marking offices, restrooms, and mechanical or storage closets. The rest might as well be Greek to me, she thought with humor, borrowing a phrase she'd heard many a coworker use in the past. Except in my case, it might as well be Mandarin!

Colton leaned in to peer over her shoulder. "Okay, I get it," he said, tracing a finger across a series of black lines on the screen. "This is electrical conduit, where all the lines are run through." He pointed to a set of green lines that ran parallel to gray lines. "This is more than likely fresh water, and the gray ones would be sewage lines."

"But that's not what you're looking for." Jessica tapped some keys on the keyboard, bringing up the entire security system of the building, including all motion and sound detectors, pressure sensors in the floors, and the locations of every key card scanner. "Okay, I've got this." She tapped her finger on the screen. "It's an XI-47 system put in just a few years ago. It's a fairly good system, if that tells you anything."

"How does it work? I mean, it obviously has a wireless network of some kind if the logs go to the contract company instead of security."

"Yeah, that's one of the reasons a lot of places went to the XI. And their corporate office is located right here in Fort Worth, so getting any maintenance or repairs, or even troubleshooting, is a lot easier than if they were based out of state."

"Is there a way to falsify the logs?" Colton crossed his arms across his chest.

"How do you mean?"

"We're wondering if it's possible to scan into the gondola so the system reads the person as being inside it, but allows him to leave the basket without scanning out? Is there anything in the system that registers that the harness has, in fact, been put into the safety ring?"

"Let me see." She pulled up manufacturing specs on the gondola as well as the card reader. "From what I see here, there's no way for the system to know whether or not the harness has been placed in the safety ring. It just opens and closes with each swipe of an approved key card."

Lacey exchanged glances with Colton. "So, you were right. Mr. Blyge could have simply scanned into the basket without placing his harness into the safety ring."

She nodded her head. "That's what I suspected. It's good to have that confirmed. So we have an alibi that might not be an alibi. How do we prove it?"

His shoulders lifted into a shrug. "At this point, we got nada. Unless the DNA comes back with something."

"Or until he strikes again."

"You think he will." It wasn't a question.

"I know he will," she said. "He's having too much fun to stop now. He won't stop until we get him behind bars." She nodded to Jessica. "Thanks for your help. Let me know if you get anything from the tech?"

"You know I will!" The other woman turned to her screen again.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton followed his partner back to the lobby where the elevator seemed to take forever to get to the basement floor. Casually, he turned to her. "So, you were right about that, Blyge could have scanned in without latching his harness properly. What else are you holding back?"

"Nothing else. It was just a question I had in the back of my mind. I mean, Fountain Place is close enough to allow him time to get over to Mrs. Smith's place, crash her door in, and get back in only a half an hour or so."

"But why her place?" Colton wanted to know. "He acted like he was looking for something. I mean, the guy's strong enough to kick in her apartment door, he easily could have done the same with those flimsy bedroom doors. It's obvious he wasn't looking to hurt her."

"Yes, it did seem like he was looking for something." They climbed into her car. "But the question is, what was it?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." He moved the car's seat back a few inches, barely catching a glimpse of the scowl that crossed her face before she masked it. Well, she's gotta understand, if we're going to be spending all our vehicle time in her car, rather than one of the units, I'm gonna have to make some changes. My legs are too long for her car. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned to stare out the window.

"I have an idea," she spoke up suddenly. "We don't really have a pattern of these attacks, not like a usual serial who has a set MO, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

"So why don't we plug all three of the attacks into VICAP?"

"You do that, and you're likely to get a hundred hits." He shook his head, wondering if she had lost her mind.

"No, bear with me. Put all three in as a single case, see if we can find any other cases with the same inconsistencies as ours."

"That's assuming he's done this before. And assuming whoever was working the cases had the same idea to group them all together. Still, we're likely to get more hits than we can handle. I mean, how far back do VICAP cases go?"

"You're right, but I'd like to try. I just have a feeling about this."

He remembered then that she had felt something familiar about this case right from the start. "Did you ever recall whatever it is that seemed familiar to you?"

Without taking her eyes from the road, she shook her head. "I haven't yet. But now that you bring it up again, it really is nagging at me."

He hesitated, not really sure if he wanted to get personal or not. What the hell, she is my partner. For better or for worse. "Well, you've been with the department, like, forever right? Think it's one of your old cases?"

She seemed amused for a moment. "I've only been with them for a couple hundred years," she replied with a dry tone. "But even I can't recall every case that I've ever worked on."

"Might be worth it to go back through some of them?"

She set the car to auto drive and turned to face him. "It does feel really familiar to me. But I don't get the sense that it's an old case. More like...something I remember as a child, something hovering just out of reach."

"Well, what do you remember from being a child? I mean, before the 'Change'?" The minute he'd said it, he wished desperately that he could take it back. Damn it!

"It was a long time ago. I don't remember the year I was born, but it would have been sometime in the 17th century. I lived in a small village outside of Athens, called Piraeus, in Greece." Her eyes got a far-away look. "It's about six or seven miles from Athens, give or take. We used to go there to the agora, the market. It was an all-day event, as we didn't have any horses or mules, nor a cart for them to pull. We walked to the city, and walked home." She shook her head again. "I don't remember much from that time. The 'Change', the virus, it's hard on the memories."

"Well, that smell, that cinnamon or spice smell. Do you suppose it's possible that you smelled it before at the market there?"

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Suddenly, it was like a gate flooded open in her mind, and she was back in the 17th century, sitting in Aegon's working hut, watching him as he put the finishing touches on a garment.

~~The sound of Wolf song, far off in the distance, caught her attention. Aegon, too, turned toward the sound. "It won't be long now, my child. They are coming for us."

"What do we do?" Fear snaked down her spine.

"What we must do," he replied, the sadness evident in his voice. "We do what we must do."

She knew her fight wouldn't last long; though she had been learning from Aegon, and practicing whenever time allowed, she still wasn't very skilled with the heavy, clumsy broadsword. Lacey preferred her short, well-balanced, and razor-sharp hip dagger. But since their foes had sharp claws and teeth in their armory, it wouldn't be wise to allow them close enough for her to use the knife in combat. Still, she checked to make sure it was properly secured into her waist sheath.

The scene shifted, and Lacey saw a sudden flash of red light from Aegon's work table, and the tantalizing scent of cinnamon and ginger filled the air. "What did you do?" She whispered, all the fine hairs on her body standing on end.

"What I had to," he told her. They both startled at a hard knock at the door. "Summoned for help, for the only thing the Wolves are afraid of. I summoned a Skinwalker."~~

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton watched in silence as his partner's eyes glazed over and her head rested on the steering wheel. Fortunately, the vehicle was on auto drive and continued at the proper speed and heading until it sensed that she was unconscious. A few moments went by, then a few more, and he began to worry. He had just decided to try and snap her out of it when he heard her sharp, indrawn breath.

With a sharp gasp, she raised her head. The car, having sensed an incapacity in its driver, had pulled over to the shoulder of the road and turned the hazard flashers on. Before it could call emergency services, she pressed the auto drive button, bringing the vehicle back under manual control. It was only then that she turned to face her partner, who was watching her in confusion and concern.

"I know what it is." Her voice was vulnerable and quiet. "We're dealing with a Skinwalker."

Now he was stunned yet again by her revelation. "A Skinwalker?" He shook his head. "Aren't those just legend? They never even taught about them at the Academy. I thought they were an old wives' tale."

"No, they're not legends." Her voice was beginning to regain some of its usual strength. "It's been five centuries since I've seen one, but they are most definitely real."

Lore about Skinwalkers said they were beings who could take over the appearance of anyone they came into physical contact with, though their base shape (when not wearing a "skin"), was roughly humanoid with long, coarse hair all over their body. Whenever they desired to change their guise, their outer "skin" would shed off in big bits and pieces, often accompanied by a clear slime. They were nasty creatures who were sly and sneaky by nature and were often found peeping into windows. Skinwalkers often had malicious feelings toward any of the Immortal races, even their own.

Her hands, resting in her lap, were trembling, and she seemed oblivious to that fact. If it were possible, he'd say her pale skin looked more sallow than usual, and for a moment, she looked completely vulnerable. A surge of unexpected protectiveness washed over him, causing him a bit of embarrassment. Though he knew she was just as strong as him, she looked like a helpless child, and a tug of guilt pulled at him. But before he could do something stupid, he asked, "What do you remember?"

"It's difficult to talk about," she began. "I guess you need to know a little bit of background about me. I was 'Turned' in the year 1621 in Athens, Greece. I know this much because Aegon told me so."

"Aegon?" He stumbled over the unfamiliar name.

"He made me Immortal, and I quickly began to think of him as a father." Her voice took on a wistful tone. "He 'Changed' me to spare my life."

"To spare your life?" He felt his temper flare as he snarled. "So he condemned you to eternity??"

"It's not like that!" She was quick to defend the man whom she still considered her mentor and friend, her Vampire father. "I was already dying. You see, I had been infected with Bubonic plague, the bacteria responsible for the so-called "black death" in the 1340's and '50's?" He gave her a puzzled look. "That's the outbreak that most people are familiar with, but it wasn't the only time this illness reared its ugly head. Aegon did spare my life, and he treated me as if I were his daughter. I was a young woman already, and my human parents were just told part of the truth: that I had left town and had died from the outbreak."

With effort, he reined in his emotions. "Okay, so you 'Turned'. What happened next?" He was genuinely curious to learn more about her life.

"We stayed in town; my parents didn't come to Athens very much anymore, and since I looked a bit...different than their young daughter, Aegon decided it didn't matter. He and his wife, Abana, they took care of me, looked after me while I was 'Changing'." A small, tight smile crossed her face. "It's not...pleasant, the process of 'Turning'. But after I recovered, I felt that I owed them for my life. As I said, they treated me as a daughter."

When she trailed off, he prompted, "What happened?"

She drew in a deep breath. "There was a conflict. Trouble between us and a pack. A pack of Wolves." She glanced at him but he said nothing. "I'm not sure what even started it, I don't know if even Aegon knew, but there were more of them than there was of us. Aegon summoned a Skinwalker to help, he said it was the only thing Wolves truly feared. But it was no use. We lost."

The silence stretched on until he could stand it no longer. "I know." She looked sharply at him. "It was my pack."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

She'd never before thought it possible that she would feel that fear again, yet here it was. The shiver worked its way up her spine, and then a chill ran down her, though her temperature remained unchanged, and the uncontrollable trembling set her limbs to shaking. But it was more than just the sheer terror; this time, she was full of rage as well. Her lips quivered as she tried desperately not to speak, or to cry, for she was afraid that once she did, she would be unable to stop.

Obviously sensing her distress, he said with quiet tones, "I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

Resting her head on the steering wheel once again, she whispered, "How could I have known?"

"Well, you were there. I wasn't. I mean, I wasn't even been born yet."

That mattered very little to her at the moment. Her blood cried out for justice, and vengeance. They wiped out my entire family, left me for dead, and he can sit here and nonchalantly talk about it as if we were discussing the weather! Her entire being wanted to flee, her brain wanted to just dump him out on the side of the road and see how he liked walking back to the station.

Her heart still mourned for those lost loved ones, even after all these hundreds of years. Lacey knew that there was nothing he could say or do that would undo this betrayal, this infidelity. There's no way I can have him at my back! Then and there, she made the decision to request a transfer.

Turning away from Colton, she flipped the radio onto her usual 24-hour news station, turned the volume to an ear-shattering volume, and pulled away from the curb, muscling her way into traffic to the sounds of blaring horns and a few rude gestures from other drivers. At that moment, she could care less about common courtesy on the road. Lacey's only thought was to get to the station as fast as she could, as if she would be able to out run the turmoil flooding her mind and soul. Deep down inside, she knew that she could run to the ends of the Earth and still never escape.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched with bitter humor as Colton gulped several times and gripped the "chicken stick" until his hand went white. Knowing his fear of speed in general, and his dislike of her driving in particular, Lacey allowed one brief, humorless grin to cross her face as she slammed down the gas pedal with a squawk of tires, zipping carelessly through traffic and changing lanes with the intensity of a jockey guiding his mount from the back of the pack. She pretended not to hear Colton's strained gasp as she threaded the German sports sedan into a hole more suited for an economy car. She gained a small and petty satisfaction at giving him such a scare.

At the department, she allowed her long stride free rein and soon outdistanced the man with the unusual gait. She wanted nothing to do with him, didn't even want to be seen walking with him. Not for the first time, she wished she had an office door to slam; Lacey wanted nothing more than to slam the door as hard as she could. Instead, she threw her shoulder bag into the corner of her office and stood staring out the window, her blank, unseeing eyes focused on inward demons clawing her guts to shreds.

Still, she couldn't settle her thoughts. Arms crossed over her chest, Lacey's fingertips traced the uneven and ragged scars marring the otherwise smooth flesh of her right arm. The hair on her neck still stood on end, as it had ever since the flashback had revealed the possibility that their UNSUB was a Skinwalker. She didn't know much about them, and knew they would have to dig even deeper than expected to uncover any information about this obscure species. No, there is no longer any we. I'll make damned sure it's just me.

With that thought, Lacey stepped to her office door. "David!" She bellowed, mentally pacing as the man approached her in his usual slow manner.

"Need something?" His grating voice irritated the hell out of her.

"Tell the commander I need to see him ASAP! And I mean right away!"

"Yes, sir, no problem." He lumbered back in the direction of his desk.

She almost screamed in frustration at his snail's pace. Remembering where she was, she returned to her office and sat down at the desk, forcing herself to boot up her laptop and put the case file on the screen. She knew she must at least give the appearance that she was working, even if her heart wasn't in it anymore. Lacey noted with bored interest that no new lab reports had been entered into the system. That was so unlike the lab that she fought the urge to pick up the phone and harass Linus with a call, their usual song and game when results were taking too long. But she just couldn't generate enough interest to do it.

Her phone rang, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was only David, reporting that the commander would see her in 20 minutes. It might as well be 20 hours, she thought as a sinking feeling fell over her. What am I supposed to do for 20 minutes??

It occurred to her then that she still had several of the old case files to sign off on, cases she had overseen before being put in charge of the Undead Unit. The unit which, if she had anything to say about it, would no longer exist half an hour from now. She put aside those thoughts for now, calling up those old reports as nothing more than a way to keep her mind occupied. Otherwise, she feared that she would have a meltdown at that very moment. But the monotony of the paperwork managed to distract her until, to her surprise, it was almost time to meet the commander in his office.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Before she could even step out of her office, the phone rang again. With a small scream of frustration, she sat back down again and reached for the handset, assuming the commander was calling to reschedule for some reason. "Anderson."

It was dispatch. She held the phone to one ear while grabbing her tablet out of her pocket so that she could enter the necessary information. As if she needed another case to deal with right at this moment! Lacey scrawled as much down as she could and hung up the phone.

"David!" She yelled once again, sure that he would be confused that she was yelling at him twice in a time frame of about 15 minutes. "David, get in here!"

She counted off the seconds, wondering if he'd ever make it into her office. But he surprised her for a change, moving down the bullpen walkway in a gait that might have kept up with a regular human's pace. Almost. "Boss?"

"Tell the commander I'll have to reschedule with him. I caught a case."

"Sure, no problem." He lumbered off and back to his desk where, she imagined, it would take him all of ten minutes to make a simple phone call.

She started to take this case alone, but as it was a mugging involving a knife, she knew it wasn't a great idea to go off herself. Damn it, why does this have to come down now! It never rains, but pours. Seeing Colton in his cube, she snapped, "Let's get going."

He jumped as if she had scared the daylights out of him. "What? Where?"

She ignored his question and headed for the parking ramp, not caring if he hadn't followed her or couldn't keep up. But somehow he did, and by the time she locked her seatbelt into place, he was doing the same. Without a word, she started the car with the sound of a quiet purr.

# 11

Colton sucked in his breath and steeled himself for a harrowing experience. Not only did Lacey's driving terrify him, but now he was enclosed in a small metal death trap with the woman who had just learned that his family had wiped out everyone she'd ever loved. This should be interesting as hell, he thought with more than a touch of sarcasm. He wondered if he ought not just close his eyes and wish for death as a means of escaping the fate that he was not at all certain was undeserved.

Still, curiosity reared its ugly head inside him as Lacey spun the tires leaving the parking ramp. He dared to ask, "So, what's the call?"

Tight-lipped, she answered without taking her eyes from the road. "Assault with a deadly." Colton noticed with fear that she hadn't set the sporty car onto auto drive.

Fingers dug in to the leather seat, Colton started to speak but only managed to make a high-pitched squeal of terror. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Weapon?"

"Knife, from the sound of it." She seemed to be enjoying his fear, and it seemed that she was going to speak to him as little as possible.

He sighed, realizing she was going to make him pry every little bit of information out of him, which he suspected would be just as fruitless and frustrating as carving a sculpture from a slab of granite using only a butter knife and his bare wits. It might be about time to request a transfer. He squirmed, uncomfortable in his seat. Like, maybe to Mars. As if that would get me far enough away from her! For the first time, he began to worry about his safety around her. When he'd assumed she known of his connection to her family's attackers, he'd not once felt that she would cause him harm, at least, not intentionally.

But, he could see her point. If the circumstances had been reversed, he might have thought she'd kept it from him on purpose. He imagined how he might have handled it. Or not have handled it. He knew there was nothing he could say to her, nothing that could take away the pain his family had brought upon her. Though he knew it was useless to feel guilty, that emotion was nevertheless a part of his psyche, something passed down in his ancestral memories and something he would carry around for the rest of his life.

He shifted again, knowing that he must be betraying his nervousness, but unable to remain still. "What's the situation?" He pulled out his tablet and prepared to take notes on whatever tidbits she was willing to share with him.

"I don't know much. Two young male Shifters got into it on the train over by Baylor. One drew a knife and stabbed the other." He waited, wondering if that was all she was going to say, or all that she knew. As the uncomfortable silence stretched on, he was sure that she wouldn't give him any more information. Damn it, I'm still you're partner! I've got a right to know what we're heading in to! As much as he wanted to voice those words to her, he held his tongue, knowing it might be the smartest decision he could have made today.

Whether or not she sensed his uneasiness in the silence, she spoke again. "The vic went to Baylor Medical under his own power to seek medical treatment, and as he was buddies with the suspect I don't think we'll have much trouble figuring out where to find him."

"Guess they won't be friends after this," he commented wryly. Her only answer was to turn on the radio.

With a shrug, he turned and looked out the window, watching as Lacey passed other cars on the highway as if they were standing still. That was, as he'd already learned, nothing new for her, but he wondered if maybe her judgment wasn't a bit impaired by the emotional turmoil he knew she must be going through. Then again, she was not a Wolf, and he wasn't sure if she even felt emotions in the way he was projecting that she would, in a way he could understand. Humans always tried to group all Undead into the same category, a fact that always pissed him off until the moment he found himself doing it to another, like now.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't the most politically correct person in the world. He doubted if there was anyone who was, especially those to whom outrage at injustices, imagined or real, came all too easy. He took several deep breaths, knowing that what calmed him when his anger was raging should offer the same benefit to his anxiety, and he was surprised when he felt just an easing of that terror. Again, he made an attempt to be social. "Any word on the vic?"

She changed lanes rapidly and zipped off the highway so quickly that he didn't even catch what exit they were taking. "Minor abdominal wound, from what I gather." He thought she wasn't saying anymore, until she remarked, "But you know how that can go."

"Yeah," he muttered. From her tone he felt as if he should be checking his own back for a knife. Maybe Becca was right. Maybe I do need to request a transfer. Surely this can't be worth it!

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey barely slowed down as she took the exit, knowing that at this time of day, traffic would be horrendous no matter which way she went, and that 1st Avenue would get them as close to Baylor as possible. As she expected, traffic was backed up in all directions. A quick query to her GPS informed her that there had been a 4-car accident at a wide, dangerous intersection that Lacey had often likened to a "roundabout" in England. At the speed traffic was moving, Lacey knew they'd be sitting still for a while.

Though she wasn't sure she wanted to know, she couldn't keep herself from blurting all at once, "Why didn't you tell me?"

He looked at her with a stunned and pained expression on his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times. "Like I said, I thought you knew."

"How did you know? Who told you?" He mumbled something that even her sharp ears couldn't catch. "What?"

"Instinct, mostly." He spoke a little louder. "I mean, the pack passes down stories and history, just like anyone else does, but we also have a sort of--" Colton broke off, seeming to have difficulty finding the right words. "I don't know, it's memory but much more. It's pack mentality, not something I can really explain."

In spite of it all, she found herself quite curious. "You mean like a racial memory? You know what your ancestors know?"

"Kind of." His voice was gruff. "It's not so much a memory, but a knowing. Like when you hear something that your ancestors knew, and you just know, too. Or you meet someone that your ancestors did, and you know them too. I knew it the moment I saw you when I first came to the Major Crimes unit."

"And you never thought to mention it?" Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as the car inched forward, bumper-to-bumper with the cars both in front and behind it.

"Well, I thought it would be rude." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his shrug.

Rude? Rude?? Well, for crying out loud, everyone knows Wolves are rude! Of all the things he could have said, this fired her anger to new heights. She squeezed the car around a pair of black-and-whites blocking the lanes where the accident was located and saw a couple of uniforms attempting to direct traffic. Then, Lacey slammed on the brakes suddenly to avoid another car that had sped out of a small residential street, cutting her off and barely threading through the space between Lacey's car and the police cruiser.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Colton yelled, shaking his fist at the other driver. "Can't you see we're fucking driving here?" He continued to curse while Lacey activated the hands free cell on her vehicle's dash. He seemed just as outraged at the near miss in her car as she imagined he would have been in his own scarred pickup.

"This is Anderson, badge number 75-81918A calling dispatch."

"Dispatch."

"I'm on 1st Avenue just passing Commerce. I need a unit to check out a white Ford sedan." She called off the car's license plate. "Vehicle cut me off in a traffic accident area and is now moving northbound on 1st."

"Copy that, lieutenant. I've got a unit nearby."

With a flick of her thumb on the steering wheel, she disconnected the call.

"These fuckers, they don't even bother to look when they come out of side streets. Hell, most of the time, you're lucky they even stop at the sign! Jesus, these people are crazy!" Colton's voice was full of fury.

She glanced over her left shoulder to hide the hint of a grin. The near miss seemed to make him forget that he was uncomfortable in her presence. She decided against continuing the conversation as they neared their destination. She preferred to carry the lighter mood into the interview with the victim, rather than the rage that was still simmering inside herself.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Baylor University Medical Center was just like any other big medical complex. To Lacey, it smelled like any other hospital. Colton must have heard her quick, indrawn breath because he looked at her with a quizzical expression.

"I don't like hospitals," she said in explanation.

At first it didn't seem that he understood what she meant, but she could see that his nose was working almost furiously, and when he caught the scent of human blood, he nodded at her. For the first time, it occurred to her that he, too, must have a little difficulty in walking into a human hospital. Wolves were predators, after all, and in the beginning they had hunted humans as often as Vampires had. It wasn't likely that Colton was old enough to have actually eaten human hearts, or other parts for that matter, but that made her realize that she didn't know how old he was. It had never crossed her mind.

Though Lacey had been to Baylor in the course of working cases with the department, she wasn't as familiar with it as she was with Medical City; it seemed that most of her victims of violence had gone to Medical City. Or maybe it just meant there was more trouble in the neighborhood of Medical City. In any case, she had to stop at the information desk and ask for directions to the ER.

The elderly woman at the desk put her knitting aside as Lacey pulled out her badge.

"Oh, my goodness!" She had the feeble voice Lacey had come to associate with humans of extreme age. With a hand that seemed to tremble, she pointed them in the right direction. As Lacey thanked her, she sat back down in the comfortable-looking chair and picked up her project, never missing a stitch.

"What are you making?" Colton asked the question that was on her mind.

"Oh, this is going to be a sweater for my great-granddaughter," she answered with a grin. "That is, if I can get it finished before she outgrows it!"

Lacey was shaking her head as they went down the long hallway in the direction the woman had shown them.

"What?" Colton asked her.

"Why on earth someone would want to make clothes like that when it's just easier to buy them?"

He shrugged as he shuffled along in his unusual gait. "My mom likes to do that. But she crochets, that lady was knitting."

"What's the difference?"

"I dunno except knitting uses those two needle things, my mom always used a single one with a hook on the end of it."

Lacey envisioned his mother, in full Wolf form, sitting and making whatever it was by hand, and the image was so absurd that she almost laughed out loud. Though she was still furious at Colton, just for being a Wolf, and her commander, for giving her a Wolf as a partner, she was able to control the anger within. At least for the time being. But she still had a bone to pick with Commander Wilson.

# 12

Their victim was in the process of getting the slice in his left side stitched up when Lacey knocked on the door of the hospital exam room. He was young, maybe in his early 20's, with sandy brown hair and wary dark brown eyes. Lacey watched his eyes constantly flick back and forth between her and Colton, yet the young man ignored the doctor who was working on his injury.

"I'm Rick. Richard Stemple," the victim introduced himself. He made no attempt to shake either of their hands.

"Can you tell us what happened, Rick?" Colton asked before Lacey could get the words out. She scowled at him but said nothing.

"Oh, sure. Me and Jonesy was just sittin' there on the train, we was playing Duty Calls on our cells." Lacey raised her eyebrows and gave him a puzzled look. "You know, it's a first person shooter game? You have to be a soldier and get through the campaigns, kill the bad guys, stay alive."

"Okay, so what started it all?"

"We was on our way to Fair Park, we wanted to buy some tickets to a concert. Well, Jonesy, he got all peeved because I didn't have his back and he lost a life. I went through the map in a different way than he did."

"Wait a minute. This started over a video game?" Colton sounded skeptical.

"Well yeah, you know, I cost him a life, dude."

Colton glanced at Lacey, and she gave him an 'I don't have a clue' look. "So, what happened next?" She glanced at her tablet where she was making notes.

"So he like, punches me in the shoulder, right? I ain't gonna take that shit off nobody so I punch back. Next thing I know, we're standin' up in the train and now he's all-out punching me, not playin' around."

Richard drew in a sharp breath and glanced at the doctor, who was still working on the 6 inch gash in his side. "Damn dude, like that freaking hurts, man."

"Sorry," the doctor muttered.

"So here I am, trying to dodge blows with the train a-rockin' and a-swayin'. That's when Jonesy pulled out a pocket knife and swiped at me. By then, train security had come into the car, just as we're makin' the stop at Baylor Station. Jonesy zips off before the car even quit movin'. Security took off after him and I called 911."

"What's his real name?"

Richard looked at Lacey as he answered. "Willard Jones. But we all call him Jonesy."

She made note of it in her tablet. "And where does he live?" Richard gave her an address on the south side, off Logan Street. "You think he'll be there now?"

"I bet. More than likely he hopped the train home. Little bastard's probably plunked down on his couch hiding in another video game. It's what he does."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey hopped onto the freeway once more, feeling relieved to have the open road stretched out before her, rather than the snarl of traffic up and down 1st Avenue. She eased the car up to 100 MPH and pulled out into the far left lane. Ignoring Colton's indrawn breath, she called for even more speed, until the white lines on the highway were blinking by as rapidly as a strobe light at a dance hall. Lacey enjoyed the sensation of the G-force as the powerful vehicle pressed her into her seat.

As if to distract himself from the harrowing ride, Colton turned to her. "Did that kid seem a little out of it to you?"

"You mean illegally 'out of it'?"

"Noticed that too?"

"It was fairly obvious." She was approaching at high speed a car driving much slower in the left hand lane of the interstate, and she slipped the car into the center lane and back again in just moments. She had no patience for anyone who wasn't in as much of a hurry as she was. All Lacey wanted to do was pick up this perp, deliver him to booking for assault with a deadly weapon, and have her meeting with Commander Wilson.

Seeing the exchange for Interstate 45 coming up in half a mile, she slowed her speed and began threading her way to the right lane through the heavy highway traffic. Logan Street was a short, narrow road situated right along the interstate, and not far from a major train switching station. It had long been considered a slum; the buildings in this area were often unkempt and dilapidated. Many of the houses had been condemned by the city, sadly awaiting their turn to be demolished. Often, the abandoned homes were havens for drug dealers, prostitutes, or the homeless who would slip in through broken doors or windows.

Lacey pulled to the curb and parked in front of a drab-looking white house with peeling paint. It was situated between a derelict home, with boarded up windows, and a burned-out husk of what Lacey assumed had been another house. The abandoned home was covered in graffiti identifying the local gang with some of the fresher tags. The bright red sign placed over the front door stating: Condemned! Do not enter! had not stopped someone from entering the building; Lacey saw smoke curling up from the fireplace chimney.

The house that was their destination wasn't in much better shape. In fact, the only way they could tell it was inhabited from the outside was that the height of the lawn was much lower than in the surrounding yards, indicating that someone cared enough to spend time mowing it. However, all the ground floor windows, save for one next to the front door, were boarded up.

Lacey wondered if that was the poor man's answer to barred armor on the windows. The paint was peeling on the three wooden steps leading up to a narrow, stingy porch. Lacey noticed the tiny camera lens positioned in the peephole, knowing it would be transmitting their image to a screen inside the home.

She knocked, then turned to her partner. "Beefed-up security in this neighborhood?"

"Does seem a bit out of place." Colton shifted so they were shoulder-to-shoulder and presented a unified front. Lacey knocked again. A few moments later, they heard the click of the deadbolt and the door cracked open to reveal a short stocky young man with hair so blond it was nearly white, and blue-gray eyes that were rimmed with red. He was wearing nothing but a pair of ragged boxer shorts, a pair of mismatched navy blue and black socks, and a deep five o'clock shadow.

When Lacey showed him her badge, he looked at her with an uncomprehending stare. The pungent smoke of an illegal drug wafted out the narrow crack in the door. She exchanged a look with Colton. If her nose was correct, not to mention the glazed look in the suspect's eyes, they had probable cause to search the man's home.

"Willard Jones?" Colton snarled, perhaps thinking that this would get the kid's attention.

"Yeah? That's me." The young man had a voice that sounded like he spoke through his nose, and it was heavily accented, with a long stress on the A sounds.

She could almost see the young man's brain processing, albeit slowly, when he straightened in a quick movement and tried to slam the door. However, Colton had stuck his foot into the door when Willard had opened it, so the younger man couldn't get the door to close and latch. Lacey put her shoulder into it and shoved it open, her hand on the weapon in her shoulder harness.

Willard turned from the open door and tried to run into the house. Lacey was lightning-quick, and had the suspect's arms behind his back before Colton could even blink. "Got cuffs?"

"Uh, yeah." Colton seemed startled that she had subdued their suspect so quickly and with so little effort. He pulled the cuffs from the small of his back and grabbed Willard's left arm, securing one of the bracelets while Lacey held the other arm firmly in place. Only when both cuffs held Willard's arms behind his back did Lacey loosen her grip on the young man.

"You're under arrest for assault with a deadly weapon. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed you free of charge. Do you understand these rights?" Colton recited the standard rights in a monotone voice.

"Yeah, man, I get it." His shoulders slumped and he began to weep. "Oh man, like, this is going to suck ass, dude!"

Colton crab-walked the young man into a living area right off the foyer, and sat him down on a dilapidated and torn couch with sagging cushions. An ashtray, a glass pipe frosted with some sort of residue, and a tiny plastic bag with a green leafy substance lay in plain sight on the scarred wooden table. A tiny television screen sat sadly in one corner of the room, showing a baseball game between the Texas Rangers and some other team Lacey couldn't identify at a glance.

"What's this stuff here?" Colton snarled at the suspect, indicating the paraphernalia on the table.

"Just a bit of weed," Willard sniffled through his sobs. "That's all, dude, just a bit of weed."

Lacey, wearing gloves to collect the evidence, picked up the bag and sniffed it deeply. "I think there's something else to it," she commented, holding the bag up to Colton's nose so he could get the scent.

His nose twitched as he took in several deep breaths, analyzing the smells he was collecting. "I think we're going to find out that's Odyssey," he told Lacey finally. "And for that, we get to tag you for possession of an illegal substance."

"Dude, I didn't know it was O, really! Fuck, I thought it was just weed!"

Lacey chuckled at the younger man's use of the slang term for the new street drug that was a combination of marijuana, legal in the state of Texas, and the Zizi Lotus leaf, the mythological plant Homer wrote about in his play The Odyssey, that induced a state of euphoria and apathy. The two drugs combined would cause the user to suffer from hallucinations, confusion, and loss of dexterity, among other things. The Lotus was deemed illegal in the United States and accounted for a large percent of the country's annual drug busts.

While Colton began questioning Willard about the train incident, Lacey took out evidence bags and collected the bag of drug, the pipe, as well as the ashtray which seemed to have some burned particles in it, possible leftovers from the pipe. She sealed the evidence with her initials, date, and time, and scanned each bag with her tablet before tucking them away in the shoulder carrier she used for evidence.

Entering the suspect's data into the tablet, she scanned over his priors, several arrests for controlled substances, a couple drunk and disorderly charges. She also noted that the young Shifter's animal was a Goat, and added specific instructions for the type of restraints he would need while at the jail, and to put him into a cell where everything was steel and bolted to the floor or walls; Goats were known for chewing through anything that wasn't hardened steel, and had been responsible for creating some decent yet deadly weapons from everyday items in their cells.

Colton perp-walked Willard down the sidewalk, when the subject yelled over his shoulder, "Hey, will ya lock the door for me at least?"

Lacey locked the door and made sure it was secure. Then, she realized that she'd never had a cage installed in her car, as it was her own personal vehicle, and now they would have to transport the prisoner down to the station without the protection afforded by the add-on. She rolled her eyes at the perceived intrusion on her privacy but knew there was no other way to do it. She couldn't justify calling a patrol unit off street duties just for a transfer when she had a perfectly good vehicle to do it with. But she started to think twice about her desire to use her own car while on the job.

Colton seated the younger man in the back seat, behind the driver's seat, so that while Lacey was driving he could keep his eye on the perp. Lacey stashed her shoulder bag containing the evidence into the trunk, as it wouldn't have been proper to leave it in the backseat where the suspect could have access to it, nor was there room for it in the front seat.

When she finally climbed into the car and fastened her safety harness, she noticed that Colton, while still belted securely in place, had turned his body a bit in her direction. At least he knows how to follow protocol when he wants to, she thought as she turned the engine over. It's the getting him to want to that's the hard part. She was still anxious to get back to the station so she could hand this stoner jerk over to Booking and then try to get in to see her commander. She still wanted a transfer.

"Like this is some kick ass ride, dude," Willard commented from the back seat. "Totally epic!" He seemed to have forgotten, at least for the moment, that he was in handcuffs.

Colton didn't say a word all the way back to the station, though Willard kept up a running monologue about every aspect of her vehicle that he thought was "cool, dude" until she zoomed down the highway at 115MPH, at which time he yelped, gulped several times, and then fell silent. Thank god, was all she could think. This entire experience reminded her of why she didn't miss her days on patrol. And why she never wanted to end up carting a prisoner around in her personal vehicle. Maybe next time she'd make Colton drive his own vehicle. No, hopefully there won't be a next time I work a case with Colton! She wasn't ready to admit that she was just starting to get used to him.

When she arrived at the police station, rather than pulling her car up into the parking ramp as she usually did, she rolled into the subterranean level leading to the sally port, where prisoners were brought in and out of the building. The car's doors echoed hollowly through the concrete structure. Willard seemed to be panting in anxiety by the time they pulled him from the back seat, whether from her driving or the prospect of another stay in the opposite of comfortable accommodations at the jail, Lacey couldn't tell.

She depressed the doorbell-like button on the intercom. "Identify yourself." The voice was mechanical and rasping through the speaker.

"Anderson, 75-81918A, with a prisoner."

The door emitted a loud buzz and Colton pulled it open. About ten feet from it was another door, which was electrically wired up to the first one; no matter what anyone did either from outside or inside the building, the second door would not unlock as long as the first one remained open. Knowing from past experience how sticky the outer door could be, Lacey pulled it closed with force. Colton, one hand guiding their suspect, approached the second door and pressed the buzzer on it. This one had no speaker; the guard on the inside simply released the door whenever the alert sounded.

Lacey stepped to the guard sitting behind a counter, who was just setting aside a newspaper.

"You out slumming again?" He asked with a chuckle.

"If I had been, I'd be bringing you in," Lacey retorted.

Colton removed his cuffs from Willard and handed him over to two correctional officers. Lacey scanned all the evidence from her shoulder bag and laid them on the counter, watching restlessly as the desk officer scanned them in, maintaining the chain of custody.

"You'll want to have this tested right away," she said, indicating the bag of dried green leaves. "I suspect it's Odyssey but I don't have a test kit."

"Well, here." The man bent over with a loud screech of his chair. From under the counter he pulled a small square package in a zipped plastic bag. "You're not planning to switch over to Vice are ya?"

"God no!" She exclaimed as she put the package into her shoulder bag. "Do I look crazy to you?"

The guard just laughed, and handed the evidence bags over to the officer who was collecting and recording any property Willard came in with, such as his watch, clothing, and shoes. He was also wearing a silver chain with one of the patron saints on it. Lacey couldn't see which one it was. The young man only protested when the officer told him to take off the necklace.

"Dude, really? Like, my mom gave that to me!" He was obviously attached to it.

"You've got to give it up," the officer told him with a kind voice. "Besides, it'll be safer in the locker with the rest of your stuff."

When it was put to him that way, Willard handed over the chain without another word. Once Lacey had sent the case and evidence information over to the departmental computer, transferring their custody from her to the jail officers, she beckoned to Colton. She could have made him walk through the jail proper and use the elevator to get back up to the unit, but she decided she could afford to take pity on one with such an awkward and ungainly stride, and she allowed him to ride as she pulled the car from the sally port and back into her usual place in the parking ramp.

But that was the extent of her courtesy; as soon as Colton shut the passenger side door, she locked the car and set the anti-theft system, and turned her back on him. She could care less if he could keep up with her stride, she could care less if he ever made it back to the unit. Once she left him behind, she wished she could forget all about having known him. Lacey knew she would never be able to forgive Colton for what he'd kept from her, as well as the simple fact of his ancestry. As soon as she made it back to her desk, she would be making a very strongly-worded phone call to her commander.

# 13

Commander Wilson watched her walk into his office, her gait betraying the fact that her body was on tense, full alert. He wondered what had happened to knock her off-balance. In her phone call, she'd only said that she needed to talk to him right away, that something had happened that must be brought to his attention.

Her blonde hair, normally straight and smooth, looked for all the world as if she had been yanking at it with both hands, and her blue eyes had the look of an animal who'd just become aware of a predator about to pounce, one who was trapped with no possible escape. He saw the shiver run up her spine as she approached his desk.

"Sir!" She spoke stiffly, as if trying to keep her voice from breaking. "I'd like to request a reassignment or transfer, effective immediately."

Typically, he folded his hands together on the blotter of his desk. "Please, sit down."

"I prefer to stand."

"I prefer to look you in the eye." Especially right now. "Sit. That's an order."

Wilson saw her reluctance, but she took a seat in one of the leather visitor's chairs he kept on the other side of his desk. But she didn't relax, not even by a fraction; her back was ramrod straight, not touching the back of the chair, her hands were trembling in her lap despite the fact that she had them clenched together. If he didn't know that Vampires' respiratory rates never went up, he would have thought she was breathing hard.

"For what reason are you requesting a new assignment?"

"I can't work in the unit. I don't even think it's a good idea to operate the unit. I didn't want the assignment then and I don't know. I want out."

"Lacey." He saw her stunned look when he used her first name, something he rarely ever did. "You have to give me a better answer."

"I prefer for my reasons to be private, sir."

He shook his head. "That's not going to cut it. Look, you've been with the department longer than I have, and you've been an exceptional officer. I'd like to know you see me as more than just a workplace superior. I'd like to think you consider me a friend, and a confidant." He watched the emotions play across her face, a little bit of apprehension, a little bit of confusion, but most of it was fear. "What's happened?"

"It's Colton." He gave her a look of reproach. "I can't work with him anymore!" She blurted the words, and the look on her face was reminiscent of a dam breaking. "I can't have him at my back! I can't promise that I won't hurt him! I'll resign, if you can't transfer me."

Now Wilson was surprised. "You've been here a long time. Your performance is always excellent. You help bring justice to victims. Are you so ready to give all that up?"

She looked down as if in shame. "You know I like the job," she admitted, a hint of anger in her quiet voice.

"I realize Colton is a little rough around the edges, but he's a good officer. What is it about him that's bothering you?"

Her whole body was trembling, though with fear or anger, he couldn't decide, and her breath was strained, as if she couldn't make herself say the words. "His pack--his people\--" She couldn't call his pack a family any more than she could control the stutter in her voice. "They killed my family!" She said it loudly, and in a rush, as if by the saying of it she could escape the fact, and looked at the floor.

He felt rocked to his core, and he leaned back into the comfort of his chair as he processed the information that Lacey'd had no knowledge of her partner's history. With a gentle voice, he said, "You had no idea?"

A single tear rolled down her pale cheek, but he didn't look upon it for long, knowing it would only serve to embarrass her. She seemed overwhelmed with emotion, unable to speak, and just shook her head.

"I know it must have been terrible for you." George leaned forward, using his open body language to offer her some solace and comfort. "I can't tell you I know how you feel. I have no idea the kind of scars that incident has left on your psyche. It must have been a horrible thing to witness and to experience." With a sigh, he stood, the leather chair creaking as he lifted his bulky body from it. He circled the desk to put a hand on her shoulder in support.

When she finally looked up, he saw that the tear was gone. He could feel her body trembling under his touch, but his closeness and touch seemed to calm her just a bit. He could tell she was in full flight-or-fight mode. "It was...reprehensible." Her voice was a thin whisper. "I still have nightmares about it. I can still see...and hear...my mentor..."

He tightened his grip on her shoulder. "I can sympathize with you. Lacey," and he turned her in the chair so she was facing him, using her first name to imply that he wasn't her employer, but her friend, the person who had been her partner. "You need to talk to someone." They'd had this conversation before, but he hadn't pressed her too hard to seek the help of a professional.

He realized now that he had made a mistake in not ensuring she had someone to confide in. This time, he would make sure she saw someone, though the image of him attempting to force her single-handedly into a shrink's office did amuse him. "I think it would really help if you talked to someone."

"It wouldn't." Her lips were tight. "There's nothing they can give me, human drugs won't work on Vampires."

"There's more to it than just the drugs. Sometimes, just talking about a traumatic event with someone who is skilled in the way the mind works can be helpful. They've had recent breakthroughs in hypnosis for Immortals as well." He could see that she was still resistant, more so when he mentioned hypnosis. "Think about this very carefully. Do you want to keep your job or do you really want to leave?"

She stared out the window with the blank look of a person searching deep within, and seeing only what they wanted to see. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she thought. "No, sir. You know I like being a cop," she said after a long pause. "For decades, that's all I've known."

"Let me ask you this and I want an honest answer: do you blame Colton for what happened to you in Greece?"

She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. It seemed, now that she had calmed down some, she was seeing the situation in a different light. She took in a deep, ragged breath. "Well, no, of course not, obviously. He wasn't even born that long ago. He had nothing to do with it, even though he shares the blood of those who did."

"You agree he's a good cop?"

"Well, he's a little defiant, a lot disrespectful, and seems to flout authority and regulation whenever he can get away with it. But yes, he's a good cop."

"You could make him better. It's one of the reasons I put you together. The two of you are opposites. You can temper him, and he might be able to make you face your demons. Are you afraid that he might hurt you, attack you, when your back is turned?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, sir, it's not like that. I just--it just shocked me, that's all. But he knew it all along and never mentioned it! It feels like a betrayal of trust! You worked on the streets. You know how important it is to have someone you trust with your life going through that door with you!"

"Then the fault for that betrayal is mine. I assumed you already knew, would have known as much as you could about the pack that killed your family." George purposely avoided the use of the word 'coven' when describing Lacey's fellow Vampires. In recent years, the word had begun to get quite derogatory. "He probably thought you knew, as well. We had a short conversation about it after he was assigned to the Major Crimes Unit. I told him not to bring it up unless you did." He walked back around his desk, preparing to sit, when the glistening sun setting on the deep clouds of a distant thunderstorm drew his attention. "Come, look," he commanded with a gesture of his arm.

She joined him at the window. He felt the coolness of her body temperature through the thin, sateen shirt he always wore under his suit jacket, which hung on the antique coat rack in the corner of his office. He felt as if the very air in his personal space had dropped by several degrees. He pointed with his chin at the building storm clouds. "You see? A storm's brewing."

He caught the look of puzzled yet polite confusion that crossed her face. "Sir?"

"Those clouds have the potential for violence, true?"

"Of course. Tornadoes, flooding. We've seen a few of those here in Dallas before."

"You're right," he agreed. "We're not really in 'tornado alley', but we've had a few bad ones over the years. My point being, those clouds will come, and likely dump a bunch of water on us, maybe lightning will strike a tree and start a fire, or take out a transformer. But eventually, it will blow off to the east and take what's left of itself away from us, and the sun will shine over the city again."

He saw a flash of sheet lightning as he gazed over his city. He silently counted under his breath, "One, one thousand. Two, one thousand" though he knew there was no possible way to hear the thunder at this distance, much less through the thick panes of the unbreakable glass. It was a childhood memory, one that he had passed on to his kids, and lately, to his grandkids. He looked over at Lacey.

"Your storm is starting now. How you weather it, is entirely up to you."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

As if he had said the magic words, she felt the tension she'd been holding inside release with an almost audible sound. Lacey slumped over as her feelings melted away. She still didn't trust Colton any farther than she could throw him, but that was perhaps just a remnant left in her brain, just as the attack on her family was.

George turned away from the wall of glass windows and seated himself at his desk. "Do you really want to leave the Undead Unit?"

"No, sir." She returned to her chair. "I really don't."

"Here's the deal." His voice left her no doubt that he would accept no strings attached or any negotiating on her part. "You'll stay in charge of the unit. But you will go to see Marcell Dilorenzo." He referred to the department's on-staff psychologist. "One of the reasons we have him here is that he has specialized in psychology of Immortal species as well as for his profiling abilities."

"But--"

"Nothing." With a raised hand, he smoothly interrupted her. "There will be no discussion on this. You go see him, and for God's sake, talk to him and follow his advice. Or you'll force me to place you on administrative duties. Indefinitely." He gave her a wry grin. "Besides, you two should get along well. He's one of your kind." He walked her to the office door and then patted her on the shoulder. "I had a feeling something like this had happened. Your first appointment is in an hour."

She must have been scowling as she walked through the bustling building and back to her office; people who were often friendly and outgoing passed her by without even so much as a hello. She thought she didn't mind; in her varied past, Lacey had become accustomed to being ostracized and ignored. It did make her feel a bit uncomfortable in this case, however. The humans working here at the Dallas police department were far more tolerant than most.

Colton was nowhere to be seen in the bullpen as she made her way to the office. Since maintenance had yet to replace her door, she would be unable to hide behind it as she would have liked. To have been so transparent to her commander, who knew more of her story than the others she worked with, was bad enough. But to look discomfited in the slightest to those she was technically commanding would not be appropriate at all!

She did feel guilty about the way she'd treated Colton on the drive back to the department. Now that some of the shock had worn off and she was more in control of herself, Lacey wasn't sure what she could say to make it right.

It was obvious to her that the commander was going to keep him on as her second and partner, no matter what she said or did. Nothing, short of her submitting her resignation, would make any difference. And she had meant what she had told her commander in his office: she liked her job and wanted to stay on it.

She rolled her eyes as she imagined her upcoming duty to the shrink's chair. Suddenly, she booted up her laptop. I'm an investigator, aren't I? So, investigate. She entered the name Marcell Dilorenzo into the department's employee database, wondering what she might discover about this man whom she'd never met.

No birth date was listed, of course; that was a common problem among those who were Immortal. Many of them could not remember the day they were born as humans, and somehow using the date you were 'Changed' or otherwise admitted to the ranks of the undying seemed almost crass. She, too, had left the box blank on her own application. He was, of course, listed as Vampire under the 'species' category; Immortals, unlike humans, could not list their ethnicity under the box for 'race'. Lacey always felt somewhat slighted whenever she came across the "species" box on a job application.

One Marcell Alonzo Dilorenzo (really, his initials spell MAD and he's a psychologist? What a cosmic joke!) held both a PhD and a doctor of psychology degree, which Lacey assumed was due to his Immortal lifespan, plus he was also a licensed psychiatrist, which meant he'd attended medical school after attaining a Master's degree and completed four more years of schooling after acquiring his M.D. Marcell had more than 30 years of continuing education after getting his degrees; like most higher level professions, the state determined that a certain number of accredited classes had to be taken to maintain licensure.

Lacey noted with some interest that he also had a degree in criminal profiling, something that was started by the FBI, if she wasn't mistaken, about 50 years ago. Prior to that, criminal profilers weren't required to earn and maintain a specific degree because most of their training was on the job.

He must really like his work, she thought. That much education, even for an Immortal, is almost staggering. She privately wondered at his age, thinking that perhaps he had gotten his many degrees under different names, in a time when Immortal people had still remained hidden from society.

Such studies had never appealed much to her, and she was often baffled when encountering people who'd spent so much time in school. Speaking of work, Lacey noticed that their staff psychologist had almost as much time on the force as she had, and he had worked with the New York Police Department before that.

Glancing at the clock on the lower right hand corner of her screen, she realized that if she didn't hurry, she'd be late to her enforced 'therapy'. She quickly shut down her laptop and headed for the door, nearly running Colton down in the process. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off in as kind a way as she could. "I'm sorry, I have an appointment and I'm late. Catch me in an hour?" And she brushed by him without a backward glance.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Even though she was certain she was late, Lacey paused outside the open door for a brief moment. What have I gotten myself into? Before she could lose all her nerve, she knocked briskly and stepped over the threshold. Marcell was sitting pushed away from a sleek and shining cherry desk, looking rather unassuming and comfortable with one long leg crossed over his knee at the ankle.

The rest of the man looked just as put-together in a high-end, pale blue linen shirt and an obviously silk, dark blue and burgundy diamond-patterned tie in a precise knot. His skin had a gray cast to it, as Lacey's did, and his jet black hair with a slight red tone, rather than making his complexion appear more sallow, gave the appearance of a warm flush in his high cheekbones. His eyes, a deep honey-brown in color, were already sizing her up. He stood and walked around the desk to greet her, hand outstretched.

"Lieutenant, so nice to finally meet you."

She shook his hand, grateful that she didn't have to curb her grasp to avoid injuring him as she would have done with a human. "It's...um, it's nice to meet you too, doctor?" Her voice made it a question; she wasn't sure by what title a man with so much education would choose to use. Where she was from, Lacey would have addressed him as "master", though the term, at that time, simply meant one who was skilled, yet not denoting a master/slave relationship.

"Please, call me Marcell. I want you to feel at ease here." He gestured to an antique leather chair of cocoa coloring, with gold buttons running decoratively down the arms. She almost refused; it looked as if one could get entirely too comfortable in this room.

"You have too many letters behind your name for me to be really comfortable here." She nodded toward the desk and the name plate in its polished gold stand. Marcell stood, still as a slab of granite, and with an inner grin she recalled Colton having muttered something under his breath about Vampires' ability to stand perfectly still without fidgeting. Well, I guess he won this round. I bet he'll never let me live it down if I told him! Without any other choice, she sat.

Marcell glided around the desk so that he could face her. His eyes never left hers as he asked, "Would you like something to drink? Coffee, perhaps?"

"Chai tea. But, if not, coffee, sweet and light," she replied, assuming that he didn't have anything other than coffee. He went to one corner of the office where she saw a silver tea set in an alcove of the wall. While he was busy playing host, she got her first good look around the office. The entire wall behind the man's desk was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, filled to bursting with books. Her eyes narrowed as she came across a steamy romance novel by a popular author from the last century.

Another entire wall was also covered with shelves, and there was a wide variety of things there, most of them not book related. She saw several games, mind puzzles, and even an interactive play set for children. Though the floor was carpeted in a deep brown tone, there was also a multi-colored Oriental rug, the white fringe on the short sides laying straight and flat.

The opposite wall, next to the tea service Marcell was currently setting up, had a long, low couch of deep blue, and the mate to her armchair sitting to one end. A small table was situated next to the sofa, so that it, the chair, and the couch made up the shape of a letter L. The sight of the cozy couch made her shudder with fear. Would she be laying there soon, being forced to reveal all the secrets of her soul, all her innermost and private thoughts?

Lacey averted her eyes as Marcell picked up the tea set. She was studying the diplomas, credentials, and awards the man had earned when he brought the tray to his desk. He handed her a delicate cup and saucer, then poured his own from the pot. She brought the cup to her nose, expecting to smell the half-unnatural scent of dairy substitute. Instead, the warm and spicy ambrosia of her favored tea reached her nostrils. She took a hesitant sip, delighting in the richness of the flavor.

"I do believe I've surprised you," Marcell said with a hint of amusement. "And believe you me, George told me that was not going to be easy to do."

Now I know who to blame for having a big mouth. Yeah, as if. She tried to pull off an uninterested tone. "As a matter of fact, not too many people keep it around."

His brown eyes seemed to laugh at her as he took a sip of aromatic coffee from his own cup, and she sampled her tea warily. "Tell me a little about yourself."

She nearly rolled her eyes. "I'm a good cop." Lacey shifted her weight while trying to balance the saucer on her knee.

"That much I can learn in your file." He leaned forward in his chair, eyes boring into hers, and his open hands were unmoving on the desk blotter. "Tell me where you were born, how you came to be, and how you ever ended up here."

"Do we have enough time for that?" Her voice held a hint of cynicism.

"Just start at the beginning. I know many of us who are Immortal don't remember our human birth. How about when you were 'Changed'? What do you remember from that time?"

Her eyes closed as she turned her thoughts inward. "It was the year 1621, outside Athens, Greece." He nodded and smiled encouragingly. "It wasn't an easy life for any of us, then, human or otherwise. My parents were just peasants who worked in the fields, and I did, too, when I was old enough. We never had much, but we always had enough food. And then the Black Plague came again."

Marcell shifted his weight and crossed one leg over his knee, much in the same way he had been when she'd first stepped into his office. "I was infected when Aegon came to me. I probably had very little time of my human life left. He told me what he was, and that he and his wife wanted a daughter. He had long before stopped turning anyone to the Immortal life, or feeding on the humans from the village. But when he asked, I accepted. He saved my life."

When she didn't continue talking to fill the silence, he asked, "And how was life with, did you say, Aegon, and his wife?"

"Abana," she said, a wash of sadness coursing through her as she thought about her 'mother'. "They treated me as if I were their true daughter. I was already a young woman when they 'Changed' me, but I was so fresh to the life of an Immortal that I still needed their guidance. Abana, too, had already strayed from taking human blood; they only fed on animals and had learned that we could still survive that way."

"I think a good many of us found that out for ourselves, no matter where we were." Marcell raised his eyebrows at her and smiled, encouraging her to continue.

"You're right," she replied, beginning to warm to the topic. "Abana and Aegon were already old Immortals when they met. She told me that, before she met Aegon, she would still feed on humans when she had no other choice. She grew up in Aetna, Sicily, what would be Catania today. She said sometimes they couldn't find enough large animals to keep them fed on the island. In Athens, we had a lovely home in the country. Aegon made and peddled his clothes. Abana tended her flowers. There were eventually more of us. Then the Wolves came." She looked down at her hands as she thought about memories that had long been too painful to bear.

# 14

He looked at the time on the bottom of his laptop screen, and scowled. What the hell is she doing, anyway? She tells me we're hunting a Skinwalker and then she just rushes out to some damn appointment? What the hell? He fidgeted in his chair, itching to get up and try to find her, or catch the bad guy, or something! While he'd waited for her, Colton had dug deep into the department's database, scouring it for any information he could find on Skinwalkers. And when he only scraped out a few obscure references, he turned to federal databases and the internet.

There wasn't much. It seemed like no one had even seen a Skinwalker for at least 500 years, and they weren't included in the International Immortal Registry Database. As he'd mentioned to Lacey earlier, the stories he was gathering together on the internet were more like urban legend than true fact, and he began to wonder what the sources were for some of the information he was finding. He'd already dismissed several tales from outrageous conspiracy theorists, the most far-reaching of which was from a man with Albert Einstein-like hair who claimed all Immortals were caused by extra-terrestrials breeding with humans.

Everybody knew that Vampires were caused by the introduction of a virus from a bite, and that Wolves originated from being bitten by a Wolf, from a toxin in the saliva. Zombies turned when a human with the proper gene died from unnatural causes; the gene would activate after death and cause a normal fungus that all humans carried to become active in their bodies.

Again, he glanced down at the time. Dammit, where is she? She was the only one he could think of who'd ever even seen one of these Immortals, and only she could give him the information he was seeking. He'd already checked the case book when they'd returned to the station earlier, and saw that there were no new lab reports or anything of interest, so now he was twiddling his thumbs. He'd asked David if he knew where Lacey had gone, but the other man had looked dumbfounded and scratched his head as if he couldn't understand the question.

He knew, as surely the entire bullpen did, that she had gone upstairs to the commander's office a bit earlier, and he wondered what that was all about. He hoped she wasn't trying to convince their supervisor to pull him off the Undead Unit and back to Major Crimes. Though police work was similar no matter what unit one was attached to, he'd decided that he enjoyed having a special unit dedicated to nothing but cases involving Immortals. They had separate units, after all, for other things: homicide, the Special Victims Unit who handled a lot of the rape assault cases, drug enforcement, auto theft, explosives, SWAT, and many other situations, even the internal affairs unit who made their living by investigating other cops. It made sense to him to have one for Immortals as well.

Mentally fidgeting, he extracted himself from the uncomfortable desk chair and straightened his back with a loud crack. Picking up his coffee mug, he took a swig, grimacing when he discovered it was stone cold. He swallowed hastily and growled at the tepid liquid in the cup, as if it had gone cold just to anger him. Still scowling, Colton walked to the break room with the mug and its offending contents. To his surprise, the scent of fresh brewing coffee met his nose. It seemed as if someone other than him had made a new pot.

He dumped his mug into the sink and rinsed it out. He couldn't stand the taste of cold coffee, and often could even taste a bit of residue even with fresh brew in the cup. He dumped a heaping pile of sugar into the bottom of the mug, and was grateful to find that someone had set out the tiny cups of liquid non-dairy creamer. He no longer had to suffer with the chalky taste of the powdered crap. Adding a liberal amount of cream to the mug as well, he then poured the fresh coffee and stirred it with a plastic swizzle stick.

"I was going to bring some to you." Her voice behind him startled him, just about making him wobble the drink he had made with such painstaking care. He turned to see Lacey leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. Some of her anger seemed to have dissipated, or else she had forced it to the back of her psyche to be dealt with at a later time. "Come to my office."

"Okay." He wasn't sure what else to say to her.

Once they entered Lacey's office, she said, "Close the--damn, never mind," and she glanced again at the door frame which sadly, still held no door to close.

He noticed she had at some point requisitioned a second chair for her office, though the dilapidated rolling seat could hardly be called a chair. More like a rolling death trap. He eyeballed it dubiously as she gestured for him to sit. Since there were no arms on the chair, it wasn't as much as a hassle for him to settle himself into it. He held the mug of coffee in his hands, not sure if she would like him placing it onto the immaculate desktop.

She sat behind her desk and folded her hands together on the smooth wood. She took a deep breath as if to steel herself for what was to come. "First of all, I owe you an apology. I had no right to blame you for something your ancestors did, and I only treated you so rudely because I was so overwhelmed. I realize that you assumed I already knew of the connection, and it's not your fault that I didn't."

She shifted her weight back in her chair. "I imagine that your pack has its own story to tell about what happened in Greece, but it's not something that I care to dwell on or repeat. However, I was informed," and her face took on a grim appearance, "that I should tell you the story because you are to be my partner, no matter what either of us want. So I will tell you from my perspective and let you draw your own conclusions."

He took a sip of coffee and didn't say a word. His pack did, indeed, have their own version of events, but he had never really believed the entirety of it, and was well aware that history was written by the victors and not the other way around. He could imagine her pain, both then and now, and wondered if he could have handled it as well as she had, if the tables had been turned. He doubted, with his anger management issues, he could have controlled himself.

"It all started out when we took Merope on. She was young, and, like me, had become infected with the plague. She was dying. Aegon 'Turned' her as he did me. All of us had agreed not to feed on the humans in town. We liked it there and wanted to stay. We lived in peace for something like ten or eleven years, the three of us, until Aegon discovered that a pack of Wolves had moved into town. Knowing that they often, as other Vampires did, preyed on humans, Aegon went to talk with their leader, a man named Agustalis. He wanted to convince the Wolves not to feed on the humans of Athens and let them know where our general animal hunting grounds were."

Despite himself, he found that he was hooked on every word coming out of Lacey's mouth. Colton had a certain instinctual racial memory, which he could pull upon if he needed to for survival. But even the historians in his pack had never spoken quite as matter-of-fact about what had happened between them and the Vampires, and he'd never thought to have the chance to hear it from their point of view. Lacey's story was bringing forth some of those racial memories; though he had never met his ancestor Alpha, when she spoke the name of Agustalis, Colton felt as if he had known the man.

"Merope met a young man in town, a stranger, by the name of Bacis. At the time, we didn't know that he was with Agustalis' pack, we thought he was just someone passing through on his way to the coast. He fancied Merope, who had been young and beautiful as a human woman and no less so as a Vampire. He had no idea that she was an Immortal at that point, and she didn't know the same about him. They evidently had several secret meetings in town, and they fell in love with one another."

When she stopped speaking, with an inward look in her eyes, Colton asked, "What happened?"

"Aegon discovered her love for this young man, and she begged Aegon to 'Turn' Bacis so they could live forever. It was then that Aegon learned he was one of the Wolves. He forbade her to see him anymore, and he even went so far as to contact Agustalis again, and they reached an agreement that was supposed to keep the two of them apart." She shook her head. "Merope was beside herself, inconsolable, thinking her life held no meaning any longer. She was a bit young, both as a human as well as a Vampire, and had a flair for the dramatic." She gave him a wan smile.

"I imagine this is where the story gets interesting," he commented when she paused to catch her breath.

"The Wolf Merope fell in love with neglected to mention that he already had a mate. A Wolf mate, and as you know, Wolves generally mate for life. I imagine his first mate wasn't happy about his plans."

It was obvious she was unable to stay still any longer, something that was so unlike her it gave him an idea of how disturbed she was inside. Lacey stood and paced to the window where the sunlight, even through the UV-filtered window glared on her pale face. With her back turned to him, she continued her tale. "When the full story came out, and Aegon learned that Bacis intended to take Merope to live with him as his second woman, and that was the last straw for both sides, I think. Aegon accused Agustalis of not being able to control his pack." Colton drew in a sharp breath; it was the highest of insults to an Alpha to insinuate he was losing control over his tribe. "Merope would still sneak out to see Bacis. I'd never seen Aegon so angry, and he threatened to kill Merope himself if she didn't stay away from the Wolf."

She paused for a moment, so he took a chance and said, "From what I was told, Agustalis was furious too. It's the worst thing for an Alpha, to lose control of a member of the pack. And Bacis tested him regularly, likely would have been next in the hierarchy if it hadn't been for this...defiance." He hoped his voice conveyed the fact that he wasn't judging, not on either side.

She continued her tale. "Aegon even went and found Phemius, another young man from the village who'd taken sick with the plague, and brought him to our country home to 'Turn' him. He thought to offer Phemius to Merope as a replacement for the Wolf she could never have. Of course, the 'Change' is very painful in the first few days, especially if the one 'Turning' isn't given an hourly dose of human blood.

"Aegon said he'd had to tie me to their bed. I became so violent with the pain that he was afraid I would hurt myself, or him or his wife, Abana. I don't know what it was that finally set off Agustalis and the Wolves. Phemius was still in the throes of the 'Change' when the Wolves came."

Her voice was so distant and eerie that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, almost as if he were the one anticipating attack. He saw the shiver run down her spine, from the top of her head all the way, he assumed, to her toes.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Her arms crossed, she traced the ragged scars on her right arm, feeling the uneven skin beneath her fingers. Worrying the scars was a nervous habit she'd picked up after the attack, something that the oh-so-knowledgeable Dr. Marcell Dilorenzo had told her shouldn't have been possible. And now he wants to study me, she thought wryly, lost in the memories of the horrendous attack. Just what I need, to be a lab rat.

She could almost feel Colton's impatience behind her, so she turned back to face him, wanting to get this ordeal over as quick as possible so she could forget about it once again. "It was brutal. Aegon and I were in his little work shop off the main house. I'm not sure where Abana and Merope were. There were ten Wolves, we were no match for them."

She paused, not ready to tell him all the gruesome details of the story. "I was torn open and bleeding, and I knew I would bleed out if something wasn't done. But there was no one left to help me. Aegon and I were the only ones alive. So I lay on my right side, hoping the weight of my own body would put enough pressure on the wound until I could recover. I must have passed out from the pain, but not before seeing Aegon..." Her voice broke. "They ripped him apart. When I woke, the blood had dried my skin to the floor, and everyone else in the house was dead. The Wolves had gone. I don't know if we had killed any of them, they would have taken their casualties with them. But I was alone for the first time in my life." She avoided his eyes, not wanting him to see how vulnerable she felt after baring her soul to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet. "I could say I'm sorry for the rest of my life and it wouldn't make any difference. It wouldn't change what's already happened."

"But why? You weren't there. You had nothing to do with it, and I was wrong to make you feel as if you did. So wrong."

He shook his head vigorously. "It doesn't make me proud of my ancestors, or my species for that matter." He sighed. "Look, I'll be the first to admit I have trouble reining my temper. I've never tried to hide that. Of course, my pack doesn't talk about Greece much. But I will tell you that, when they do, they're often ashamed of the ancestors." He seemed to be groping for words, struggling to give an explanation for emotions he was unaccustomed to speaking of. "I may get angry, but I could never hurt you. It might be hard for you to trust me; I can understand that. But I've got your back, no matter what, and I'll go through any door with you." He slid his gaze away as if embarrassed by the admission.

It honestly surprised her to think that the descendants of the Wolves who killed her family might feel ashamed of the incident. Her usual opinion of Wolves was that they were unpleasant in general and snobbish and cared little for anyone not of their own species. It made her take a hard, deep look at her own prejudice. An uncomfortable silence fell over the two of them.

"So, what do we do next?" Colton asked, seeming uncomfortable with the looming silence.

She took a deep breath, then looked deep into his eyes, probably for the first time since they had met. Maybe Marcell had been right, maybe the best thing she could have done was to share this with her...partner. After all, it was possible that he'd had his own prejudice from the slant the Wolves would have put on the story. "I'm going to be perfectly honest with you. I don't want you to take what I'm about to say as a personal affront. I don't blame you for what happened in Greece; you had no part of it. And I'm grateful to know that you'll have my back and go through that door with me, no matter what. But you'll have to understand and accept that it will be hard for me to trust you. At least, right now."

"Agreed. I can understand. I can't make up for what happened. And the...pain that you feel will never go away." Somehow, he managed to say the exact same thing Marcell had told her, ...the pain will not go away. But if you face it rather than compartmentalize it, it will start to fade. "But I can change what happens from here on. Maybe even show you that not all Wolves are like those who hurt you." He returned her direct gaze. "As my partner, you're sort of in my pack now. I have a responsibility to you."

She hadn't thought of herself in that perspective before, but she had known other Wolves, though not part of her team, who had seemed very protective of their partners, no matter what the species, and she tried to put herself into Colton's shoes for a brief moment. She could see how a partner could become an integral part of a Wolf's mentality. "So, can we put this away now and get back to work?"

He seemed to be as relieved as she was with the idea. "Sure. I'm not too good with Hallmark moments anyway."

He said it with such a sneer, something she now knew was his way of being a joker, and she rewarded him with a genuine chuckle. "Okay, so let's get down to it. I have a deep suspicion that our suspect, Jason Blyge, is a Skinwalker. Do you know much about them?"

He shook his head. "Everything I found in our records or online was pretty vague. I can't find even a sketch of what they're supposed to look like."

"Well, that's the problem. See, a Skinwalker can take on the physical characteristics of anyone it has been able to sample."

"Sample?" He shuddered and wrinkled his nose.

"You know how everyone sheds skin cells all the time? Same idea, even brushing up against a Skinwalker, you leave behind enough DNA for it to copy you. Of course, they do have a basic appearance that they're born with, a mixture of the physical appearance of both its parents, at least that's what he said."

"Who said? I thought you've seen one of these...things, before?"

"I have seen one. But I don't know much actual fact about them, only what Aegon told me."

"So, how does it change its looks? In a cocoon like a caterpillar?"

"No," she said, turning to her computer. Lacey brought up a photo of the sliver of skin Colton had found at the first crime scene. According to the lab, it had a combination of human DNA and another type they weren't familiar with. "They shed the old skin like a snake does, only it's not dry and scaly. It usually comes off with a clear slime, like what we saw here." She indicated the photo. "We need to head over to the lab. I'd bet you a week's pay they'll find something similar to this evidence from the scrapings under Angelica's fingernails."

"I can't afford a week's pay." He answered with a grin on his face. "Not only that, but Becca would kill me!"

It was the first time she'd heard him mention his wife by name, though of course she could have looked it up in his employee file had she needed it for any reason. Maybe he's starting to feel a little more comfortable around me, she thought, for the first time realizing how difficult it must have been for him, thinking all along that she'd known about their connection but having orders from above to never mention it. I see now this road needs to go both ways.

"Aegon summoned a Skinwalker to help us fight against the Wolves," she told him before they left her office. "I'm not exactly sure why, there wasn't much time for us to discuss it, but I think he'd helped this creature out at some point in his past, and was owed a favor. It was extraordinarily powerful, and before I lost consciousness, I saw that it had really damaged some of the...Wolves."

Colton looked at her as if in surprise. "None of the elders ever talked about it," he said. "I'm not sure why they would have chosen not to pass on the story of an Immortal such as that one."

"It wasn't a pretty sight." Grabbing her tablet from the desktop, she walked from the office with Colton following behind her.

"Well, what else do you know about them?"

"Very little. They tend to be sly and elusive, but they also like to create chaos. Native American legend believes them to be the highest level of shaman, but one who uses their abilities for evil rather than good. Most Native American people won't even talk about them, especially to outsiders. Other cultures have similar myths, though most of it is old, some even obscure enough to wonder if there's a relationship between them."

"You're certainly right about that," he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully as they walked. "I didn't get a chance to tell you, I seriously combed just about every reference to a Skinwalker that I could find. Most of it didn't give me any remotely useful information."

Conversation was cut short as they got into Lacey's car, but as soon as they were on the road, she picked up the thread where they had left off. "And I wonder how useful any of my limited knowledge might be. It's been a long time since I've seen it, and I don't think I ever learned anything that would be of help to us now. It's like we've just discovered a brand-new life form."

"I don't like going up against something we don't know anything about. I mean, it's one thing to go up against a Shifter, or a Wolf. At least we know, for the most part, what their capabilities are."

"I know the feeling," Lacey replied absently, for the mere thought of tangling with a Skinwalker was enough to induce something very close to panic in her. Though she was correct in telling her partner that Aegon had summoned the Skinwalker as an ally, there was still something about the creature that caused a cold chill of fear to course through her, an unusual emotional response from one who was easily one of the strongest creatures on the face of the planet.

With Lacey's driving, the short ride to the lab seemed to pass in a blur, and soon they were facing Linus at his work station. "What did you bring me?" He seemed startled to see the both of them at his desk, together.

"Nothing this time," Lacey said, which caused a look of confusion to cross the young human's face.

"Well, I can't do anything more with the evidence you've already given me until the tests are all done," he said at last.

"Linus, is there any mention in any of the computers about Skinwalkers?"

He laughed out loud until he realized that Lacey had been posing a serious question to him. "Aren't they supposed to be fictional?"

"I wish," she muttered. "No, they're real enough. Or used to be. I've seen one. But what I need to know is if you have anything in your DNA database relating to them."

She knew that the lab's database of information was more far-reaching than those at the police department; the lab was hooked in to a world-wide mainframe as part of the DNA preservation program, so in the event of any kind of disaster that might threaten the information maintained by any one country or organization, the backup failsafe would automatically send all the data stored to every other lab in the world that was keyed into the system.

Linus rolled his chair over to his laptop, its tiny size deceptive, for these computers were some of the most sophisticated of their kind anywhere in the world. It only took moments for Linus to pull up the entire Immortal registry. Though there were many different species of Immortal, like humans they shared some common DNA, and Lacey was hoping that someone somewhere in the world had, for one reason or another, submitted a sample that would have somewhat matched their mystery donor, that someone had seen a Skinwalker recently enough for it to be in the system.

"No such luck," Linus said after he studied the screen for many minutes. "I can't find a single reference here."

"What about matching it with anything as-yet unidentified, like from old cold cases?" Colton spoke up suddenly.

Lacey's head came up and she gave him a quick glance, but she nodded at Colton, knowing he was thinking about the old file still sitting on her desk back at the unit. It would be nice to find a connection between that old file and their current one, but unless they could find a way to tie either case to Jason Blyge, Lacey knew they wouldn't have enough for an arrest.

"Sorry, guys, I got nothing." Linus sounded like he hated to disappoint them.

"Well, it was a long shot," Lacey said. "No worries."

"Good news, though," he said before Lacey could turn to leave. "DNA on your assault's PERK is in, so if you can get any other suspects, we at least have something to match to it. Your suspect profile will take a few more hours, at least."

"Thanks, Linus." Lacey was preoccupied as she and Colton left the lab. "Damn! It seems that we're so close, yet so far away! Everything we learn just adds up to more questions!"

# 15

At the end of shift, they still had no word from the lab on any of their pending tests, so Lacey told Colton to go home, though she did not do the same. She didn't need to sleep, but she knew from past experience that even she needed a break from the work, and that she would be able to perform even better if she took some down time.

Tonight, however, she knew the last thing she would be able to do was sleep. The events of the day, both personal and work-related, were a heavy weight on her heart, and she didn't want to give the building nightmare a fighting chance. Instead, Lacey went to one of her favorite places to go whenever she needed to unwind and put the stress of work behind her.

The Crimson Goblet was a cozy pub that catered to humans as well as to Immortals. Since alcohol acted on the Immortal body in the same way it did the human body, beer and liquor was always a profitable enterprise. Bars and drinking establishments all over the world were required by Equal Opportunity Law to allow Immortals into their places, just as they were required to allow humans in, but that didn't mean that the Undead were always welcome. There was still a social stigma attached to Immortals, as if they were pariahs who couldn't, or wouldn't, control themselves when among humans.

But the Goblet was different. Run by a Shifter named Elroy Nowack, the pub was designed more for Immortals than for humans, though humans were never denied entrance, unless they were known to cause trouble. Elroy had a giant of a man with hands the size of platters bouncing the door. There was rarely any trouble at the Goblet, and those who did cause trouble never returned after their encounter with the bouncer, who, as far as Lacey knew, had no name.

The pub had an open floor plan with a U-shaped oaken wood bar top, surrounded by sturdy, high-backed bar stools. Several pool tables treated with rich red felt were scattered about the expansive room, a few of them already in use. The smell of beer, peanuts, and deep fried appetizers filled the air. Tables and chairs were routinely wiped clean, and a small dance floor sat off to one side, separated from the rest of the bar by a waist-high rail. Some nights, the Goblet hosted local bands or karaoke night, and boasted an expensive and high tech music system, complete with proper acoustics built into the walls to maximize sound.

Elroy himself was a man who was proud to tell everyone how he had immigrated to the United States from the African continent. He was a tall, slender, dark man with sparkling eyes and perpetual laugh lines on his face. He was proud of his African heritage, and would regale anyone with tales of his youth, but had once confided to Lacey that he was so in love with his chosen country and couldn't imagine being anywhere or doing anything other than where he was and doing what he was. He donated money or supplies to the homeless on a regular basis, and on days when he wasn't working the bar, he could be found volunteering at the local soup kitchen or shelter for battered women.

Lacey had never expected to call Elroy a friend, but somehow it had happened to her, most likely when she had her back turned. She wasn't sure what it was about the man, but he was one of those people who was easy to open up to, and he laughingly claimed that he could heal the soul far faster than could "a snob-nosed shrink", and for a cheaper price. Though she'd made no conscious decision to do so when she left the precinct, Lacey found herself parking in the lot of the Goblet, and seeking Elroy out in the crowd.

"Bad day, honey?" The moment he looked at her, he tossed his bar towel and register keys to one of his employees, a signal she knew meant he wasn't to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. He walked around the edge of the bar and took a seat in the stool next to her.

"The worst," she admitted hesitantly. She'd already told him the story of her origin, and near-destruction at the hands of the Wolves. Besides her commander, and now her...partner, Elroy might be the only other soul on the planet who knew the whole story. "Okay, not the worst but a close second."

Elroy signaled his man behind the counter, and with quick efficiency, the young human placed a sparkling snifter of Bushmills single malt scotch with a single, large, round sphere of ice in front of Lacey, along with a glass of iced tea for Elroy. Lacey smiled at the dark-skinned man, sensing that he was in full "shrink" mode, and nothing she would say or do would throw him off her trail until she'd told him what was bothering her.

She took a sip of the amber-colored liquid, enjoying its burn as it slid down her throat. She absently swirled the scotch, watching the ball of ice swivel. "I found out something today," she began. "Something really important."

"And disturbing, I see." Elroy's voice was mild and cheerful at the same time. She'd never seen him in any mood other than happy, and she wondered if he was like that by nature or just very accustomed to hiding his true feelings from the rest of the world. He always could read her like a book, no matter what kind of poker face she'd tried to put on.

She sighed, taking another drink of scotch. "It involves my new partner."

"The Wolf?" His voice surprised.

"His bloodline." Lacey clarified. "The incident in Greece. His ancestors were responsible."

"And you didn't know this?"

She shook her head and drained the glass. "I could have found out, I suppose, if I had looked hard enough at it. But I never expected to come into contact with one of them."

"There's more to it."

"Yes. He knew all about it, yet he said nothing."

Elroy made a wordless murmur and drank from his frosty glass. "Do you blame him for what happened?"

She rolled the snifter between her hands, watching the ice spin around the outer edges. "Of course not. He hadn't even been born when my family was killed! He couldn't have had anything to do with it. But he's my partner."

Elroy nodded in understanding. "Ah, and by not telling you, he betrayed the trust of a partner."

She set the glass down on the wooden bar with a solid thunk. "You think I'm being silly."

He leaned back in his chair and belly laughed. "No, I think you're being boringly normal. You have a hard time building trust, even under normal circumstances."

"But I've got to be able to trust my partner. It's something you have to have in my line of work." She stressed the word 'have' using her fingers to make air quotes. "When I go through a door, I've got to know the person behind me has my back."

Elroy beckoned to the bartender, who smoothly filled Lacey's glass again without a word. "And did you ask him why he hadn't mentioned it?"

"When I talked to the commander about it, he said he'd told Colton not to bring it up. But, both of them assumed that I already knew of Colton's connection, that I'd known since he first came to the department. The commander tried to take full responsibility for that." She drank again, wishing that she could change the subject but knowing that he wouldn't let her go until they'd hashed it out in its entirety. She sighed again. "I reacted badly, treated Colton badly, at first. I don't know what came over me. I'm not usually like that."

"Hmm," Elroy said. "I think you should, what is phrase, 'stop beating on yourself', over this."

In spite of it all, Lacey had to smile. She wondered if he'd made the blunder intentionally. "You mean 'beating yourself up', I think," she corrected.

"Ah, of course." He drained his glass, slid it across the bar and patted her on the shoulder. "I think it's easier for you to remove the blame from your partner than it is to remove it from yourself. First, you must learn that you had nothing to do with it, either." He mimicked her air quotes when he said 'you'. Then, with a wide, wise smile, he left her side and returned to his duties behind the bar.

Lacey finished a third drink, wondering what he would have thought had he known his advice was almost identical, word for word, to that of one Dr. Marcell Dilorenzo, the man with numerous letters parked behind his name. For some reason, Lacey thought Elroy would have been amused. Hell, for all I know the man's got himself a degree in psychology and just doesn't tell anyone!

Feeling somewhat better about things, Lacey headed for home, her secluded hideaway in the woods. She had a meal and a glass of blood in front of her TV screen, exchanging her usual daytime soap channel for one playing a comedy, something that had always served to chase away the horrible dreams. She hadn't expected to fall asleep on her couch; such a thing never happened to her.

Dimly, she heard the yips and snarls of the Wolves. She wanted to close her eyes, so she wouldn't see what she knew was coming, but in the dream she couldn't look away. In the dreams, she could never look away, as if her subconscious mind was forcing her to live the moment, over and over again. She felt the familiar pain in her right side, and the ooze of blood down her arm.

She could see the Skinwalker clearly now. The creature was about eight feet tall; Lacey remembered that it had towered over Aegon when it arrived at their home. Dark brown fur covered its body, from almost black on its head to a lighter color on the torso. Even its hands and bare feet were hairy and when it moved, it brought with it a smell of cinnamon and spices.

To her horror, the Skinwalker had picked up one of the Wolves and held the animal over its head, bending the spine in the wrong direction while the Wolf yipped and whined in pain. She heard the sound of bones breaking, and the Wolf went silent. The Skinwalker shook the animal several times, and, seeming convinced it was dead, threw it aside with great force.

Lacey watched the Wolf fall to the ground as if in slow motion. The limp body rolled several times before coming to rest in her line of sight. The Wolf's body slowly began to change, taking on its human form, and despite everything else, she found herself fascinated by the process.

It took less than three minutes for the Wolf to fully transform. The sounds of battle still raged around her, and Lacey wanted to get up and help, but her body was frozen in place. She watched with trepidation as the naked body began to take the shape of a man, and to form a familiar face. Though the eyes were glazed and dead, they stared at her accusingly. Her heart thumped hollowly in her chest as she gazed upon the now-familiar face of her partner, his dark eyes boring into hers.

With a sharp gasp, Lacey woke, shivering violently. She was disoriented for a moment, not recognizing her surroundings right away. The TV, having sensed her inattention, had put itself into sleep mode; while she could still hear the slight sound of power coming from the screen, it was dark and reflected her image as she stared around her living room in confusion.

Her glass still sat on the coffee table, the small amount of congealed liquid turning old and brown. She gave an inward curse; it was always difficult to get the blood out of the glass once it had dried. With a sigh, she carried the glass to the kitchen, filling it with water and setting it into the sink to soak.

Noticing the time, she decided she may as well try going back to sleep for a few hours, in her bed this time, so she climbed the curving staircase, stripped off her clothes, and climbed into the soft comfort of her bed. Just as she was about to drift off, a stray thought about the Skinwalker passed through her mind, some bit of information that she knew might be important, but it flitted out of her mind just as quickly as it had appeared.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton, too, was having trouble sleeping. He tossed and turned, he growled and cursed, until Becca rolled over and turned on the dim lamp on her night table. "Honey, what's wrong?" He was facing away from her, so she laid a hand on the back of his shoulder as if in sympathy.

He shook his head. "Lousy day." He knew that she had enough of her own problems with the kids all day, and didn't want to add to the load she was already carrying. He felt her warm hand brush down his bare back.

"Sometimes it helps to talk about it." He could hear the concern in her voice.

He sighed. "There's this thing, with Anderson. She's said from the very beginning that this case reminded her of something that she couldn't quite remember. I was kind of prodding her, asking about her childhood. Well, she had a...like a blackout, I guess. Or, more like what soldiers can have after coming home from battle?" His voice rose, making his statement sound like a question.

"You mean a flashback?"

"Something like that. About Greece." She took in a sharp breath, as if anticipating what might come next. He went on to tell the story of watching his partner relive the sordid memory. By the time he was done, he could feel all his neck hairs bristling, and he quashed a desire to shake his entire body to rid himself of the eerie sensation.

When he looked back over his shoulder at his wife, Colton could see the fright in her eyes. "Anyway, she thinks our guy is a Skinwalker." He saw his wife shudder at the very mention; though not many had seen one, the legend of the Skinwalkers traveled through all the Immortal species. "I guess she's seen one before, in Greece."

"Whoa," Becca breathed. "I didn't know they were more than legend."

"Yeah, evidently her leader, Aegon, had some dealings with one before, and called on it to help them out with their...situation. That's when Greece came up."

"And she blames you for it?" Becca shook her head almost violently. "Doesn't she realize that you aren't old enough to have been involved in something that long ago?" Colton was amused that his mate was working herself into a righteous anger in his defense.

"No, it's not like that. I thought she knew."

Her eyes and mouth grew wide and round, and she brought a hand up to her face. "She--she didn't know?"

"She says she didn't, and I believe her."

"Oh." Becca grew very still, eyes wide, obviously pondering the implications.

He untangled his long legs from the bed sheets, swinging his feet over the edge so he was sitting on the side of the bed. He ran his bare feet through the thick carpeting, making a furrow in the plush nap when moving in one direction and smoothing it out in the other. Finally, he just ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

As if to give him a moment to gather himself, Becca commented, "You're needing a haircut again."

He shrugged, as it didn't make any difference to him. Hair was hair. "I fucked up, Becca! I should have mentioned it right away, no matter what the commander said. But I was so callous about the incident, just talked about it as if it didn't matter to me. She must have thought that it didn't bother me in the slightest. But I didn't tell her right away, so now it's almost worse!" He scrubbed his face with one large hand.

He got up and started to pace in the dim light of the room. "I was such an idiot!" Furious with himself, he slapped his palm onto the top of the dresser with a sharp bang. Then, realizing what he'd done, Colton held his breath, listening for one or more of the children to start crying. When only silence and the soft sounds of the children's breathing reached his ears, he returned to the bed, trying desperately to rein in the anger at himself that had his blood boiling.

"I don't understand." She sat up on her knees and draped both arms over his shoulders, holding him tight to her. He was sure his tense muscles gave her an idea of the inner war raging inside him.

"I kept something from her. I betrayed that trust of one partner to another. You have to be able to completely trust the person going through the door with you, or you can't do the job. I told her that I thought she was already aware of our connection, thought she hadn't mentioned it because she wanted it that way."

"I imagine she doesn't care to dwell on it." She ran a soft hand across his back.

"No, I wouldn't either. But had I known, I would have found a better way to tell her." He revisited the conversation they'd had in Lacey's office. "I feel like I was an insensitive brute." He admitted it with a low growl in the back of his throat. "I mean, it was so callous, the way I said it, she must think I don't give a damn about it. And that's certainly not true. I screwed up, big time."

"What did she do?" Her tone told him that Becca wanted to know, but wasn't sure if she really wanted to know.

"I've never seen her like that," he admitted. "She was furious, but in a quiet way." He saw Becca shudder, and felt the icy touch of fear run down his own spine. "She looked as if she was going to dump me off on the shoulder of the road. Hell, she probably wanted to. I'd have deserved it." Again, he hung his head, ashamed.

"Oh, but you didn't know!" Becca left one hand against his tense back. Her calm touch soothed him.

"That's not the point." His voice was flat. "She'll look at it as though I betrayed the trust of a partner, by not telling her. She's got to trust me implicitly, she has to know I have her back; now she thinks: I kept this from her, though not on purpose, what else might I keep from her? I should have just told her, orders or no orders."

"Honey, she's probably just upset right now." Becca tried to soothe his frayed nerves. She seemed to be trying to put herself into Lacey's shoes, see the conversation as the other woman might have. "I think even though she's upset about it now, she'll come around. From what you've told me about her, she's pretty reasonable. I can understand how she might feel, thinking that you intentionally kept something from her, but I bet she'll come to realize that you spoke the truth."

"She said she couldn't trust me, at least, not now."

Becca smiled. "Well, we say all sorts of things when we're upset. She just has to work through it, you know? Give her some time. She'll go home and maybe sleep on it. Do they sleep?" She seemed distracted by the question for a moment. "Let her have the time to think it over."

He shook his head. "I don't know. When we got back to the house, she screamed at her aide, something I don't think any of us have ever seen her do, not once. Personally, I've always wondered how she can stand to work with that man! I mean, Zombies don't have much upstairs." Becca swallowed a snicker. "But she demanded a meet with the commander as soon as possible."

"I wonder what that's all about?"

"She's probably trying to get me transferred. It's not like I care one way or the other where I work, but I was kind of enjoying working on the unit."

Becca leaned in to kiss him. "Try and put it out of your mind." He gave her a wry grin. "Yeah, I know. Easier said than done."

"Maybe you're right," he said, glad now that she'd pushed him to talk about it. A sense of relief washed over him. "Well, let's not talk about it anymore. I've got a better subject, since it seems like the kids are all sleeping soundly." He leaned in and kissed her passionately, the scent of her familiar pheromones filling his nose. He could feel his arousal beginning.

"What did you have in mind?" Becca asked in a teasing tone.

"Come here, and I'll show you." And he reached over her to turn off the lamp on the night table.

# 16

When Lacey woke the next morning, she discovered that she was a bit stiff from sleeping most of the night on her couch. Though the vampirococcus virus coursing through her blood gave her immortality, better senses, and rapid healing, it did not remove her human frailties. She still needed food, water, and a little sleep, and could still suffer a pulled muscle or stiff joints.

She eased herself out of bed, using her yoga to stretch out and warm her muscles. Deep in her belly she could feel a craving, and though it was normal for her to consume blood only once a day, she went into the kitchen and prepared a glass. Yesterday's ordeal had taken a lot out of her, if only emotionally. Any stress that triggered the fight-or-flight response, or a hyper-vigilance of her mind, created more tension in her body, and any kind of stress would cause her body to use up the essential elements in her sustenance more rapidly.

After dressing for work, she left a brief message on the white board magnetized to the refrigerator for Leah, her part-time housekeeper. She was out of a few favorite food items, and knew Leah would have no problem running to the market for her. The older woman was familiar with her habits and desires. When she returned to the house, Lacey would have a large supply of fresh foods.

Rather than driving to the station, she set her car on auto drive. Subconsciously she was dreading going to work; her usual trip through the busy streets would get her there much quicker than she wanted, and she wanted the time to think. The vestiges of last night's horrible dream still lingered in her mind. It was the first time she had seen a face in her nightmares, and she was deeply disturbed that it had been Colton's.

While the brilliant sun began to burn away the early-morning mist, as her vehicle crept its way through the snarl of rush-hour traffic, Lacey's thoughts strayed to yesterday's conversation with Dr. Dilorenzo. After she'd given him the story from her perspective, he had mentioned that she carried a great amount of guilt and blame, blame she placed on herself. He said until she began to accept the reality that she was in no way responsible for her family's death, she would not stop having the flashbacks and nightmares. She wondered what he would have to say about this last one.

Knowing the shrink was probably right, she accessed her in-dash computer and sent him an email, requesting an appointment at his convenience, adding that it was not an emergency. She didn't think it would make any difference to him that it wasn't urgent; she assumed he would want to see her right away. She hoped she'd be able to put off the inevitable, at least for a couple of days, but suspected that Marcell would give her an immediate response. Even still, she had no real desire to get to work, knowing how badly she had treated her partner, and feeling more than a little embarrassed about the incident, though she had apologized to him. It just wasn't like her, to be feeling so out-of-sorts.

Long before she was ready, her vehicle signaled for her attention. Though it was possible for the computer to park the car for her, Lacey had programmed it to alert her when she was close to the police station so that she could park it manually. She never did trust the auto drive to park her prized sports car without scratching the paint or tapping the bumper into the concrete wall of the parking ramp. Having lived through times where the main mode of transportation was walking, then horseback, then cars, she had gotten used to doing things her own way.

Lacey hadn't even made it into her office when her phone chimed. Tugging it from a pocket, she scowled at the text message that appeared on the screen. 9am. Don't be late. Dr. D. Knowing the futility of it, she didn't even bother to curse. It seemed as if she would be facing her demons, in more than one way, much sooner than she would have liked.

At least I can avoid one of those demons just a little longer, she mused as she passed by Colton's station; he was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't sure if she'd just gotten in before he had, or if he was making a concerted effort to avoid her. She wouldn't have blamed him for it if he had chosen to avoid contact as much as possible.

She put her shoulder bag on the small table and took her cup of chai tea to her desk. She booted up her laptop and gave it the task of digging up information on Skinwalkers, something she knew Colton had done the day before and come up empty.

Family, she had none, and few friends to speak of. But she still had her "old world" contacts, as she liked to call them: people she thought of as acquaintances whom she'd kept in touch with over the years. She would reach out to them for any information they could remember; it was the only way she could think of to learn about a creature that no human living today had ever come into contact with.

With that thought in mind, she typed up a cryptic email message, including all of her instincts and what information she could legally release to those not employed by the department, and sent it out to all the contacts she thought might have some first-hand knowledge of a Skinwalker. She sent it priority urgent, which she knew would flag this message for the recipients. She knew it might be a day or more before she heard anything back; many of these contacts were scattered across the globe and operated in a different time zone, or day, than her own.

Her phone chimed softly again, giving her the 15 minute reminder of her scheduled appointment, and she squelched the urge to heave it into the wall. She'd been hoping that Colton would show himself before she was forced to leave the unit. She had wanted to take a brief moment before they got down to serious work to apologize once again to her partner. As it was, she wouldn't even have time to check the case book to see if any new lab reports had come in overnight.

Sticking her phone back into her pocket, she peeked out into the bullpen, still not seeing hide nor hair of her partner. With a sigh, she went around the corner to David's cubicle. He seemed startled when she appeared at his side.

"Let Colton know that I had an appointment," she said once she was sure she had his full attention. "Tell him I put out some feelers to get some information that I hope will help the case, and have him check to see if the lab's gotten anything new in for us." She spoke slowly and clearly, knowing from experience how to deal with her aide.

"You got it, boss." His voice seemed even more gravelly than usual.

She rolled her eyes. "What are you going to tell Colton?"

"Um, you sent out some information that might help the case, and for him to check the lab."

Close enough, she thought with a weary sigh, wondering again why she didn't just report David to the commander and have him reassigned. He could be just as useless in someone else's unit! Pushing thoughts of work and the case aside, she hurried to the elevator, slipping into the narrow car just as the doors were beginning to close.

Lacey had no idea what she was going to tell Marcell. Or, Doctor D, she thought with an amused snort. I bet he thinks that's cute. We'll just have to see about that! During their first meeting, Lacey wondered if Marcell would like to get to know her better, outside their workplace environment. She was certain that after hearing her sordid story, he would decide that she came with too much emotional baggage to be worth a personal relationship; however, the casual manner of his text message hinted he may be considering the possibility.

She shook her head. The last thing she needed was to be getting personally involved with anyone, much less someone she worked with. She'd spent the years since the death of her family finding subtle ways to keep people at arm's length, if not more, and Lacey had become quite skilled at rebuking anyone who attempted to get closer than she liked. She had no doubt that, if it came down to it, she would be able to push away the slick and polished psychologist.

Marcell's door was open when she arrived, so rather than knocking, she just walked in and closed the door behind her. He was dressed casually today in a pair of khaki slacks and a navy polo shirt. He had been working on his computer when Lacey entered the room, and he looked up and greeted her with a warm and friendly tone.

"Good morning, lieutenant." He gestured toward his visitor's chair. "Make yourself comfortable. I was about to make a fresh cup of coffee. You'll have tea?" His tone indicated that he would accept no argument. She sat in the plush leather chair and steeled herself for the awkward ordeal she was about to face.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton was surprised to find that Lacey wasn't at her desk. It's already past shift start, I wonder where she went? He himself had been a bit late getting in, but only because he had stopped at the lab on his way in to see if they had processed any more of the evidence in their case. Linus had managed to make a partial match between the odd DNA cells they'd collected from under their first victim's fingernails and the blood recovered from the scene of the bar fight.

Linus still maintained that the blood sample was old, and pulling a full DNA profile from it might prove difficult. Privately, Colton wondered if the other man had just chosen not to give the information to him instead of Lacey. Everyone knows they used to go out. But, he reined in his anger before he worked himself into a real good mad. Then again, a little favoritism might actually help us.

Colton could feel his frustration beginning to grow as more of the evidence offered little in the way of answers, and often brought up more questions that seemed impossible to resolve. No matter how he looked at it, either as individual files, or putting all their cases into one, he couldn't figure out a pattern. He booted up his laptop, and, rather than waiting for the laborious machine to warm up, took his coffee mug to the break room for a refill.

When he returned to his desk, he discovered his computer displaying the blue screen of death, as it was known around the bullpen. He cursed loudly, sloshing coffee across the back of his hand. He just resisted the urge to slam the laptop shut. Heaving a huge sigh instead, he took his coffee with him and moved to an empty cubicle, where he was hoping he could access the case book. While he waited for that laptop to boot up, he contacted the IT department to report his dead computer.

Seemingly an hour had passed by the time he was finished arguing with the nerd squad. Not only that, but Colton found that his mug of coffee had gotten cold. He ordered the aging laptop to pull up the case file, then went to the break room to refill the cup. When he returned to the empty cubicle, he began going over all of the data and evidence they had collected thus far. It seemed to be very little.

However, VICAP had turned up something interesting. Colton dug his tablet out of his pocket and instructed the computer to beam the old case files to it so he could refer to it later. He was not surprised to find that the database had returned the old case file that he'd already pulled out of the library. But Colton was interested in a second file that VICAP had returned, an unsolved case out of Louisiana involving a sexual assault with an aggravated assault tacked on after the fact.

Four years ago, a young woman was attacked in a dim parking lot while walking to her car after work. Later, the victim's boyfriend took to dropping her off and picking her up when she had to work late. The attacker turned up three days later, still stalking the woman. A fight between the suspect and the woman's male companion had ensued, and the unsub escaped, only after taking a knife to the boyfriend's shoulder. Even with a decent sketch, the offender had never been tracked down. The case, along with all its evidence, had gone cold.

At this point, Colton was well aware of the fact that their suspect, if he was, indeed a Skinwalker, could change his identity at will. It was likely none of their ID images or sketches would be evidence that could be admissible in court. They would have to find a perfect match from the DNA from Jason Blyge to samples collected from the scenes, and even then it seemed that would be a challenge. He sent a message to the Louisiana State Police department, who had handled the assault case, requesting more information and, he hoped, DNA evidence still in storage.

Linus had sent an email stating that the DNA sample from their first case was proving difficult to process. The evidence was a combination of human and unknown DNA that was defying his attempts to separate. He also said that if it was possible to split the sample, it might destroy the unknown specimen or reduce it to such a minute amount that the defense, if the case went to court, would be unable to perform independent testing on it.

As much as Colton hated to admit it, he understood and respected the process of justice. Wolves were innately aware of pack hierarchy and the rules governing their close-knit society. Those who could control their anger impulses could do well in law enforcement jobs. However, this case was a constant test of his tenuous restraint, when he knew full well that Jason Blyge had committed the crimes, yet couldn't get enough evidence to put the man in his place: behind bars.

Well, I say behind bars. Who knows what kind of cage we'll have to design for a Skinwalker! He shuddered, some ancestral memory causing a touch of fear into his soul. Though he'd never seen a Skinwalker, some instinct deep within him recoiled at the thought. I sure as hell hope Anderson knows how to round this thing up! And keep it that way! Pulling the slender stylus out of its place in his tablet, he made several quick notes, then stepped away from the cubicle and walked into Lacey's office.

She still had not returned. He stood by the case board, using his tablet to beam the new information into the system. He had taken all the cases, the old one he'd dug out from the basement, the two cases VICAP had found, and their three new cases, and created a chronological time line with each crime listed by date. Hash marks showed when each crime had been committed.

The oldest case was from 90 years ago. Blayze Sherman had been questioned in the assault of his live-in girlfriend, though there hadn't been enough evidence to convict him. The report stated that the girlfriend went to the police department the day after the incident. She claimed that Sherman had assaulted her, but Sherman told investigators that they often had rough sex, backed up by videos on the man's phone of himself and the victim engaged in energetic coitus complete with bondage and whips. What a perv. Colton shook his head.

Colton could find no indication of whether DNA had been collected from Sherman during his questioning. History not being his strong point, he connected to the internet via his tablet and searched using the date of the case. He discovered that, at that time, DNA was often, though not yet routinely, collected from suspects questioned in a case or persons of interest. The law compelling DNA sampling from these people had just begun to take effect in other states, but not yet in Texas. That figures. They still think we're a republic around here, rather than a full member in the United States. Cursing the narrow-minded politicians of his state, he turned back to the murder board.

The case out of Louisiana 40 years ago was interesting. It hadn't popped on his initial search for like crimes, due to being outside the state of Texas; only with a nationwide VICAP search had he been able to find it. The young victim worked late night shifts at a local restaurant and was attacked in the parking lot, dragged into a panel van, assaulted, then dumped onto the dusty ground and left behind. The owner of the business had found her just an hour later. He had immediately called 911 and she was taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital.

The standard PERK was collected from the victim, of course, but there was no mention of any oddity in the DNA found on the young woman. Colton noticed that there was no evidence of seminal fluid, indicating that possibly the perp had tried to cover his tracks by wearing a condom. Colton would have to consult one of the detectives over at SVU, but he was quite sure he remembered reading of cases while in the academy where the suspected male was a non-secretor, meaning he didn't shed semen or sperm, but Colton couldn't remember which it was. I'll have to look that one up too, he thought in disgust. Maybe that's why there's been no mention of any DNA evidence in these old cases. Lacey should know, wonder where the hell she is?

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey was not happy where she was. The last thing she needed to do was waste her time baring her soul to a man she barely knew. The nightmare had disturbed her to the core, but she wasn't sure she was ready to talk about the implications of it. She was beginning to regret her decision to come here.

The office that was designed to offer comfort and encourage openness was instead unnerving to her. Marcell was preparing coffee for himself, tea for her, in a way that told her it would become customary. Though she appreciated the gesture, she was on edge and eager to just get it over with. She squashed the urge to fidget, yet another new sensation for her, as he carried the steaming cups to the desk.

"Thank you." Though she wanted to run screaming away from the office, she remembered her manners. Lacey took a sip of the liquid, hoping it would help calm her nerves. But there was something different about the taste as well. She looked at Marcell, eyebrows raised.

"I added some chamomile." He replied to her unasked question. "It's lovely for calming nerves and tastes good with chai. I also added a little honey."

She nodded and took another sip. "I appreciate that. But I doubt a bit of herb will help my nerves much."

Marcell seated himself behind the desk. "Last time you were here we talked a bit about what happened to your family in Greece, and the flashbacks. Have you had another one?"

She gave a wordless murmur and shook her head. "Nightmare."

"Those can be just as traumatic as flashbacks. Especially as they intrude on our sleep, when we should be the most comfortable and yet are at our most vulnerable." Marcell leaned back in his chair, his body language, she assumed, intended to make her feel more at ease. She was amused to see him employing such methods, as the same thing was taught at the academy for officers to use when questioning suspects.

She set the coffee cup on the edge of the smooth desk and clasped her hands in her lap. "I frequently have nightmares about the...attack. That's nothing new."

Urging her on, Marcell said, "But there was something different about this nightmare? Something new?"

She took a deep breath. "I saw a face on the Wolf." She saw a look of bewilderment cross his face and then vanish. "I never knew the Wolves. Aegon thought it would be safer for all of us if only he had dealings with them, whenever it was necessary."

"And you'd never come across any of them while in their human form?" He took a drink from his cup.

She shook her head. "I'd never seen any of them when I went into the village. I was rarely there, in any case. I was still relatively new to being Immortal, and my parents were living on the edges of town. We couldn't take any chances that we might come across each other."

"That's reasonable."

"So, no, I never knew any of the Wolves, in either of their forms."

"Yet you saw a face on one of them in this nightmare? This was the first time you'd seen faces?"

Cringing at the thought of being drawn deeper into her dream, she sighed. "Faces, yes. Blurred and generically human. They could have been anybody, or nobody. I wouldn't be able to point them out if they were standing in the bullpen."

"Yet last night, you...what? Recognized one?" He leaned toward her over the desk.

Lacey looked at her hands, still tense and white-knuckled and resting in her lap. "Yes." Her voice was barely audible. "I saw a face." When Marcell remained silent, she could no longer hold it inside. "It--it was Colton. I saw Colton's face."

He leaned back in his chair once more, hands clasped together, index fingers steepled and resting just below his chin. "Your partner?"

"Yes."

"And this disturbed you?"

At this, she tore her gaze away from the floor and looked at him with surprise. "Of course!"

"Why of course?"

She sputtered for a moment before realizing that his question was a means to draw deeper emotions, those she might otherwise hold back. It was to make her think about why she had the reactions she had. She took several deep breaths and counted to five before she answered. "Because, I don't hold him responsible for the attack, even if it was those of his kind who did it, even if it was his ancestors who did it. I don't blame him!"

"Then why do you think the dream upset you so much?" He amended his question in what was, to her, an obvious attempt to put her at ease. "Or unsettled you so much?"

She gave him a summary of the dream before answering. "Because it made me feel guilty."

"Guilty for what? For unconsciously blaming him?"

"I don't think I unconsciously blame him, even though he does carry their blood, and their instincts."

"So what do you think? Subconsciously?"

"I think I'm afraid of him." It was a thin and broken whisper. As if to give her time to compose herself, Marcell took his coffee cup to the small alcove where he kept the pot. She heard the cheerful clinking of the mug against the saucer. By the time he returned to his desk, she had reined in her emotions. How does he always know when to push, and when to leave it alone?

"You're afraid of him." It was a statement rather than a question.

She let out a hurried sigh. "It's a matter of partners," she began. "Partners in law enforcement are often, usually, closer than spouses. It has to be that way, in order for the team to function at its peak."

"So it's not a matter of being afraid that he will hurt you, exactly. More that you're afraid that he might cause you to be injured, by his action or non-action."

"Yes, that's true." She nodded her head. "I didn't expect someone not in law enforcement to understand it so quickly. I've seen and heard of other cops, people who lost their marriages over the partner, same sex or otherwise. It's not uncommon among police officers."

"Oh, yes, I've counseled my fair share of them in my time."

"So you can understand how deep the bond can go."

"Yes." He agreed and then was silent.

"That bond requires a level of trust that often even lovers don't acquire. I've had numerous partners, and was never able to foster that kind of relationship. Over the years, the brass finally gave up. They haven't tried to pair me with anyone in a long time."

"But you think this time will be different?" She didn't answer. "I talked to the commander. I know you requested a transfer."

"No, I think this time they mean for it to stick. And I'd be lying to you if I said I thought giving me a partner now would work."

# 17

When Lacey arrived at her office, she was only feeling marginally better about last night's troubling dream. It was never easy for her to admit to her strongest feelings, and her deep-seated fear, not of Colton specifically, but of the possibility of baring her soul and trusting her life to another in a way she hadn't done since Aegon's death. She had been relieved not to have to break it down in great detail to Marcell, the relationship between partners; it hadn't occurred to her that he would have dealt with the repercussions before.

She tossed her shoulder bag on the table as she walked in the office, wishing again that she had a door to close on the noise going on in the busy bullpen. As she glanced wistfully over her shoulder, she did a double-take. Sure enough, her eyes hadn't deceived her; she was looking at a new, sandy blond, wooden door with a pane of frosted glass in its upper half, her name and rank neatly stenciled across it in black lettering.

Lacey was still staring in awe at the door when Colton swaggered in, a lopsided, goofy grin on his face. He hooked his thumbs carelessly into his belt loops and cocked his hip to lean on the door frame.

"Well?" He looked for all the world like a kid in a candy store.

"Have I walked into a different dimension?"

He laughed. "No, I think we're still in the correct one."

"Then how did this happen?"

"My laptop went down. I had to call the geek squad. So after I called them I got to working at one of the spare cubes, and came in to add some stuff to the board. I thought about how you really need a door in here. So I gave maintenance a call."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I've been calling maintenance for 10 months now. And you get it done in less than a day?"

"I called in a favor. I've got a buddy on the crew."

"And you never thought to mention it?"

"The subject never came up." The amusement on his face was clear.

"The subject never came up." She repeated his statement as she walked over to inspect the door. Lacey glanced at Colton before giving the door an experimental swing. It moved without squeaking and complaining. The handle turned smoothly.

"I thought maybe you'd like it."

She gestured to the visitor's chair as she walked around her desk. "I do appreciate it."

He sat, wiggling until he was settled in comfortably. "I thought we might, you know, someday, need to keep it closed, like if we have a family member coming in or something. That way they won't just barge in and see stuff they shouldn't on the board."

"It was good thinking. Speaking of, you mentioned something new to add?"

He grabbed his tablet and activated it, using the stylus to manipulate the images on the big screen. "I came up with two more cases, or rather VICAP did. Actually, they're two different incidents in the same case file. But since they'd already run the first one through VICAP, when they had the second assault come in, they ran it separately."

"Hmm." She looked over his shoulder at the screen. "And these are from where?"

"Louisiana."

Lacey groaned. A little over a hundred years ago, a massive and violent hurricane had devastated a great portion of the state. Those who could, had fled before the storm, but hundreds of thousands of people remained in the city of New Orleans when the hurricane made landfall. After the skies had cleared, much of the city had been destroyed. The city's poor got poorer, and the crime rates rose to an alarming high, even among the neighboring states. Complete recovery had taken decades. "When was this?"

"About forty years ago."

She did the math in her head. "So it was at the tail end of their reconstruction. That was a bad time for everyone. Crime even went up here when refugees were flooding the area. I was just a beat cop back then."

"Yeah, I'm glad I lived up north when all that was going on."

"So, what was it about this case that was similar to any of ours?"

He flicked the stylus across the tablet. "The vic mentioned a smell. She said it smelled like fall."

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "You know, like fall. Thanksgiving dinner, that sort of thing. VICAP pinged this one because of that strange odor two of our vics gave us."

"I see." Lacey studied the board again, pleased to note that he had, with no prompting from her, set up a time line and marked each of the crimes in chronological order. "Got a sketch of the unsub?"

Colton punched buttons on his tablet, and the standard case book screen switched to an enlarged picture of the suspect. The artist had, in Lacey's opinion, not been very skilled; the sketch was crude and rudimentary. The eyes were sharply slanted, suggesting Asian descent, and there was no color indicated. The wide face was thick and heavy, with no indication of jaw shape; a scraggly beard covered it from the cheeks down to the neck. There was no notation on hair color either.

"How about DNA?" She asked.

"I sent a message to the Louisiana State Police to see if they have any."

"Well, even if we were dealing with an Immortal who couldn't change his outward appearance, this wouldn't help us any," Lacey commented.

"Yeah, I know. But it did lead me to another question. Do we have a cage to put this guy in? I mean, does he have the ability to copy anything he comes in contact with? Like mice, for example?"

"Not that I'm aware of," she replied. "Though I don't really know much about them. We catch this guy and the medicals are going to have a field day testing him."

"They'll have to keep him in a clean room." She looked at him in surprise as he continued. "Well, that's the only way to keep him from copying someone else, right? A computer clean room can't have any dust, and dust includes human skin cells."

"You may have an idea there. I'm not sure if a Skinwalker can copy the DNA of other Immortals, so we may end up putting together a team of medical Reapers to watch over him."

"Well first we have to catch him. Then we can figure out how to keep him."

"Yes," she agreed. "He's certainly got to be aware that we're on to him now. And we still don't have enough for an arrest warrant."

"He'll be in the wind by now for sure. And he could copy anyone, sneak out of town. There's no way to stop it!" He punched the door frame in anger.

"We've got to get down to the lab," she said, trying to soothe him. "We've got to find something!"

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

They strolled purposefully into the lab, headed for Linus' work station. He was making notations in his computer, and glanced at them with a look of surprise.

"Something new?"

Lacey shook her head. "No, nothing. But there's got to be something we can find, something that can get us an arrest warrant. Without it, our hands are tied."

"I don't know what else I can come up with."

"Can we see how you came to find the partial match?"

"Sure." Linus pulled up the results on his flat screen monitor. The images were on a white background, and looked like someone had made repetitive horizontal black hash marks from the top, where the black color was the darkest, to the bottom, where the color had begun to fade.

"How do you look at crap like this all day?" Colton spoke up.

Linus chuckled. "Well, I don't look at this, specifically, all day. But there's an easier way." He tapped a button, and the image reversed; it was now a black background with white hash marks. Then he split the screen and brought up two separate images.

"What are we looking at?" Lacey wanted to know.

Linus indicated the left part of the screen. "This is the reference ladder of the human DNA that was recovered from your first vic." Then he pointed to the right portion of the viewer. "This is the reference ladder of the human part of the sample you gave me from your person of interest."

"Well, he's moved into being a suspect at this point." Colton corrected the other man.

Linus nodded. "These are the bands here." He pointed to the white bars. "You can see how the two profiles resemble each other."

"Just a resemblance won't get us anything."

Linus looked at Lacey as she spoke. "Of course not. This is where the computer comes in." He clicked on the right hand profile and dragged it to the left hand side of the screen. That the two images matched was clear, though there was a slight discrepancy to some of the hash marks.

"Why doesn't this match, here?" Colton pointed to some uneven hash marks near the bottom of the screen.

"There's a 0.2 degree, plus or minus, variance in some of the sample. That's normal for most humans. Our DNA is constantly changing, replicating, as new cells are born. This is well within the margin of error to make it admissible in court."

"Okay, so we can say with certainty that this human DNA from our victim matches exactly with the sample from Jason Blyge." Lacey crossed her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely. If we didn't have this other DNA portion." Linus agreed. He cleared the images from the screen and put up two new ones. "Now, this is the portion of the unknown DNA that I've been able to type. Some of it's still being processed." The hash marks were more undefined than the ones they had seen with the first sample. They were also looking at more fading in the color of the bands. There were also more of the bars, almost double that which had presented in the human sample.

"Why is this so different?" Lacey asked.

"Well, if I could answer that, you'd owe me a great big bottle of the most expensive scotch I could find," Linus answered with a grin.

"I thought you said there wasn't enough of this sample to work with." Colton gave Linus a hard look.

"There wasn't. What you're looking at has been copied to produce more chains to work with. It's kind of like making a copy on an old Xerox machine."

"Well couldn't the defense's lab do the same thing?"

"Assuming there was enough of the original sample," Linus answered Colton. "I only took a very small portion of it, not wanting to destroy it if I couldn't get it to copy. It did, but it's still very unusual." He tapped a few keys on his laptop, bringing up a computer-rendered chart of the DNA type, columns and rows of the letters A, C, G, and T. "The computer did this comparison, but it's only partially complete. You can see in the reference ladder how there seems to be almost twice the amount of bands as there was in the human sample."

"Wouldn't this constitute a match?" Lacey wanted to know. "I mean, without the comparison to be completed? It's an unknown DNA, it's got double the bands of human samples. Can't you conclude that they match?"

"I can," Linus agreed. "The problem is, this is unprecedented. It's like scientists finding a new species in the rain forest. I'm not sure what's going to be necessary to convince the DA for a warrant, much less what might be required by the courts."

"I see." Lacey murmured it, lost in thought. "We need to go see Joe again. Can you shoot me over all of what you have on this strange DNA?"

"Sure." Linus tapped a few keys, and her tablet beeped, asking her if she would accept the incoming files.

"Thanks, Linus," she said. "Let us know if you get anything else out of it."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

As Colton followed Lacey through the police department, he was frustrated with unanswered questions regarding the DNA results. Science had never been his strongest point, and he had barely passed the required science courses at the academy. He was struggling to understand the implications of their strange DNA evidence and how there could be a possibility the courts could say they didn't match.

Then, he could stand it no more. "I don't understand!"

Lacey glanced back at him and slowed her pace. "What?"

"It looked like a damn good match to me, even if it is an unknown sample. So what's the problem?"

"Well, the biggest problem is that it's an unknown. Courts don't like anything that's unknown. Or rather, juries don't. They want clear answers, in black and white. Nothing in between."

"Yeah, but if this sample is so unknown, it's obviously got to be from our guy! I mean, wouldn't it have cropped up somewhere before, if there was another person out there with it?"

"You would think," Lacey replied. "But if it IS our guy, I'd like to know how he's avoided being tested and put into the registry for so long."

"Exactly! I hadn't thought of that," Colton admitted. "I guess he's been in hiding all this time. Although I don't know how he escaped the DNA police." Colton was referring to those who ran the International Immortal Registry Database. "He's got a standard ID, he had to in order to get a job. If he'd tested non-human, the licensing bureau would have compelled a DNA sample before issuing his license."

"Licenses can be faked. Even if you're not Immortal."

"I know that's right." Colton agreed as Lacey, seeming anxious to reach the DA's office, increased her pace once again. He struggled to keep up with her, but he'd be damned if he'd ask her to slow down.

They found Kyle at the front desk as usual. "Is Joe in?" Lacey asked. Colton repressed a shiver. For some reason, the Shifter gave him the creeps. It wasn't anything he could ever put his finger on, but he distrusted the other man. Before being partnered with Lacey, he'd never had many dealings with the young attorney, nor come across him in court cases. But it seemed to Colton that Joe was always too much of a stickler for the rules.

The ADA was at his desk, so they went right back to his office. Colton settled himself into the faux leather chair and glanced at Lacey, with a simple look giving her the floor. She gave the man a quick briefing of what had occurred in their investigation since the last time they'd been in to see him. While he listened, Joe grabbed the pen from its holder and fidgeted with it. It seemed to be a habit of his.

When Lacey reached the point where she would have begun explaining the strange DNA, he stopped her. "Wait a minute! You mean to tell me that the lab has never come across this before? You've run it through the IIRD, I assume?"

"According to Linus, they've never seen anything like it."

"Is this a new Immortal species we're dealing with?"

She shook her head. "I think it's a really old one, one we've not seen in a very long time." She took a breath before pressing on. "I think it's a Skinwalker."

"What? I thought those were just legends. I never knew they were real!"

"They are very real. Or, at least, they were. I ran into one a long time ago. I didn't think there were any more left, either."

"Wow." Joe leaned back in his chair and seemed caught between curiosity and disbelief. "So, how can we get the courts to accept DNA evidence that no one's ever seen before?"

"And therein lies the question of the hour," Lacey replied. "We thought maybe you could help."

"This is definitely beyond my experience." The Shifter shook his head. "I'll need to bring this up to Jenessa." He referred to Jenessa Bonner, one of Dallas' most experienced district attorneys, and one of his bosses. She specialized in high profile or complicated cases, and was a bit of an expert when it came to old or obscure history of law. "I'm not sure if she's got anything going on right now or not. Give me a minute to find out."

While the other man reached for his phone, Colton pulled his tablet out of his pocket and began reviewing the case data. He had the intense feeling that if he just looked at it with fresh eyes, he would be able to figure out the answer. I sure hope Louisiana has something that we can use, Colton thought. It would be nice to get this pervert locked up for a good long while!

Absently, he wondered if the Louisiana victim was still alive. Since there was no statute of limitations on rape assaults in Texas, he could be charged with their original case of assault from 90 years ago, assuming they could provide evidence corresponding to that crime. Out of curiosity, Colton called up the internet and did a search for time limits on rape in Louisiana. There were none. So if they could tie all these cases in together, that could mean a lot of prison time for their suspect.

"What are you looking at?" Lacey asked him softly, so as not to disturb the ADA. He angled the screen so she could see the section of Louisiana state penal code. "I see." She nodded her head. "Wanting to know if we can get him for that case, too?"

"Sure. I mean, it's been a long time, but if the vic's still alive, don't you think she'd like to know he was finally put away?"

"Well thought."

At that moment, Joe hung up the phone and they turned their attention to him. "Jenessa's tied up on something for the rest of the day," he informed them. "But she can meet with us at 8am sharp tomorrow morning, if that suits you?"

Lacey nodded and cut in before Colton could do protest. "That'll be great, thanks." She motioned to him and cocked her head at the door. Seething, he followed as his partner left the office.

"What the hell!" He exclaimed once they'd gotten into the hallway.

"Hey, no one ever said justice was quick." Lacey's tone was dry. "Another day's not going to make much difference."

"You can say that now! But it's just giving him more time to get out of town. Or to hurt someone else!"

She turned on him then, her pale face glowering fiercely. "Don't you think I know that?" He'd learned that when she was angry, her voice, rather than growing louder, would become quiet. The fact that he could barely hear her caused a little shiver of fear to flit through his mind, though he didn't mean to make her mad. "But we can't fabricate evidence to suit our purposes! That goes against everything we believe in!"

He put his hands up in surrender. "Yeah, sure, sorry I yelled at you. It's just so damned frustrating!"

"I know, I'm frustrated too." Her voice returned to its normal volume. "But we've still got some angles to push. You've requested info from Louisiana. I've requested some from old contacts of mine. Let's see how much more we can get on this son of a bitch, because I'd really like to see him get life in prison."

"I was thinking more along the lines of the death penalty." But when he saw the look of vengeance on her face, he reconsidered. "Maybe you're right. Maybe life would be worse."

"So here's what we're going to do. We're going to go over everything we've got once more, see if there's anything we've missed. I'm going to check my emails to see if anything has come in from my contacts. We work the case like any other case. And, if nothing breaks by end-of-shift, we go home."

# 18

Nothing urgent had broken the day before, so Lacey and Colton had called it a day and gone home at a reasonable hour. Now, they were in Lacey's office gathering all of the notes and making one final check for anything new from the labs. Colton had an email waiting from the Louisiana State police evidence storage facility, saying that they did, indeed, have some DNA evidence and preserved tissue that they would overnight to Dallas.

Which means it won't be here for two days, at least, Lacey thought wryly. No matter where you were in the state of Texas, nothing could be shipped "overnight" and arrive at its destination on time. So, there was nothing to do but wait for the evidence to arrive, and keep their meeting with the DA's office.

When they arrived they were shown into a conference room, and offered coffee. Colton accepted, but Lacey declined. After only a few minutes, Joe entered the room, carrying his tablet in one hand and a cardboard cup in the other. The cup he offered to Lacey.

"I know you don't like coffee," he said in explanation.

She took a hesitant sniff, surprised when the scent of her favorite tea met her nose. "Thanks." Joe took a seat across from her, leaving the chair at the head of the table to his boss. He placed his tablet on the table and looked at them.

"Anything new?"

"Not to speak of," she replied. "We're getting in some evidence from the Louisiana State police on that case from 40 years ago. DNA analysis and some preserved tissue specimens. But as they only went out this morning, they won't be here for a couple of days."

"That figures."

At that moment, District Attorney Jenessa Donner made an entrance. It was obvious that this woman held a high position, and that she knew it as well. She was a tall, slender, middle-aged woman with cocoa-colored skin, salt-and-pepper hair expertly coiffed into a bun at the back of her head, and dark, intelligent eyes. She wore a deep purple power suit with matching 6 inch heels, making her 5 foot 9 inch figure that much more imposing.

"Good morning." She carried her tablet and a mug of coffee to the head of the table and seated herself.

"Good morning," Lacey replied. "I'm Lieutenant Anderson, this is my partner, Detective Scarber."

"Joe tells me you have a very odd case."

She cuts right to the chase, Lacey thought. I could learn to like this woman.

Briefly, Lacey explained the high points of the case, concluding, "So, you see, this unknown DNA sample has really thrown tin foil into the radar. It could end up being a landmark case." She threw that last comment in, hoping to draw the DA closer to their side of the line. Lacey had looked up the woman's information and cases the day before, and knew that she liked the new or unusual.

Jenessa reached into the inner pocket of her suit jacket and withdrew a pair of black-framed glasses studded with stones. "This is, indeed, very intriguing. I'm not sure anything like this has ever happened before. It's certainly not something we're going to just look up in an old law text."

"That's why we came to Joe." Lacey glanced over at her partner, but Colton seemed too intimidated to put in his two cent's worth. "This is nothing I've ever come across."

"And you've been in law enforcement for a long time." Jenessa commented. "I've followed your career with the department."

Confused, Lacey asked, "Why?"

"I have a lot of respect for women in professions typically dominated by men," she replied. "As well as strong and independent woman, such as you."

"Or yourself."

Jenessa smiled. "Okay, so let's get down to business."

They talked for more than an hour, discussing the unusual and unknown DNA sample and how it could be presented to the members of the court and jury, should it come down to a court case. Jenessa maintained that nothing could be done until the new evidence came in from Louisiana and was processed. Lacey argued that, with a warrant, they could hold Jason Blyge for the standard 72 hours without charging him.

"But if we do that, and the evidence doesn't get here, or can't be processed in that time, we have to let him go." Colton spoke up for the first time. "And then he'll know for sure that we're onto him, if he doesn't already. He'd bug out."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Jenessa looked up from her notes. "And we don't have enough to ask a judge to put on a tracking device."

"You're right, of course." Lacey conceded. "We'll wait until the evidence can be properly examined. I want this guy in a cage, for good. We can't screw this one up."

Colton's frustration was almost palpable as they returned to the unit. But before he could voice his concerns, Lacey gestured him into her office and closed the door, grateful once again that she had a door to close.

"I know you're frustrated." She sat behind the desk as she spoke. "But you know we're both right. We can't afford to let this guy slip through our fingers, and we've got to make sure that we have all the evidence we can to make sure he gets put behind bars, and stays there."

"So what do we do? It sounded in there like our hands are pretty much tied behind our backs." He paced the small room in an obvious attempt to work off some of his anger.

She was pleased that he was getting in control of his temper on his own, without her prompting. Perhaps, despite everything, we can make this partnership work, as ill-fated as it might have seemed at first. "I'm going to call the Lieutenant Johnson in charge of patrol. He owes me. I'll ask him to assign officers around the clock to watch Blyge. We'll tail his every move. And they'll have orders to detain him if he tries to leave town."

"On what charge?"

She considered carefully. "He's a person of interest in an assault case. Well, actually a suspect, like you told Linus. We could detain him for 72 hours, then after that charge him with evading IIRD registration. It might be fun to let the Registry Department get their hands on him for a while."

"Hey, I've got a family friend over there. If we do end up detaining him, I can have him tied up over there for hours. Maybe more!"

"Okay, so that's the plan. At least, until the evidence gets here."

"Better put a rush on that processing."

"Linus will."

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

There was nothing more frustrating, in Lacey's opinion, than waiting. Waiting for evidence to be processed, waiting for a warrant, even, in some cases, waiting for the perpetrator to commit another crime. She sat at her desk, wishing for something new to come in, or something, anything, to pop out of her screen that would give her grounds to arrest Blyge on the spot.

She had sent Colton home, as they had both clocked on duty early for their meeting with the DA. Of course, if something broke, the administration would be okay with a few extra hours.

At the moment, though, she had to review a couple reports of some real simple cases involving Immortals that the regular officers had picked up while she and Colton were busy with their investigation. And she had to finish the report on the stabbing she and Colton had dealt with a few days before. Lacey doubted that she'd be called into court for that case, as it was a cut-and-dry situation with the suspect admitting to having committed the crime. But she needed to be prepared just in case she did get a subpoena to appear in front of the judge.

So, she got the reports entered and cleared into the computer network. If she had a proper aide, she might have left those duties to him; however, David was very slow to learn new things and could barely keep up with the filing of standard reports that the Major Crimes unit was putting in on a day-to-day basis. Lacey knew better than to try getting him to file and clear her own reports. And, she supposed, it was one of the reasons why the commander had promoted her and put her in charge of the unit. She was a stickler for paperwork.

Shaking her head, she corrected the spelling on yet another report. How can these people not know how to spell? They speak English, don't they? It was fortunate for her that the reports were all digital; Lacey remembered all too well the days of having to hand write reports, with a pen!, and when she was still a beat cop, she had felt sorry for her superior every time she'd submitted a report.

Once her paperwork was completed and her desk was clear, she took her shoulder bag and headed to the parking lot. She was going to make one more stop at the lab just to make sure nothing else was pending, then she would head home.

Linus was just shutting down his station when she arrived.

"Hey, Lace." He closed the lid of his laptop and turned to face her. "I don't have anything new."

"I was headed home anyway, thought I'd stop by just to see."

"You really want to get this guy, don't you?"

"Yeah, it'd be nice to put him away, get some closure not only for our vic but for his other ones as well. Some of those cases are pretty old."

"Any word from Louisiana?"

"Yeah, they're shipping us some reports and preserved tissue samples. I don't expect them for a day or two though."

"So, you're pretty well stuck spinning your wheels."

"It sure seems like it," Lacey agreed.

"Why don't we go over to the Goblet for a drink? It's not like you're expecting anything to break any time soon."

Lacey considered. It would certainly be more enjoyable than sitting at home in front of her screen. And might just be enough to distract her from a case that seemed to be going nowhere in a hurry. "Sure, sounds good."

Her sensitive hearing was good enough that she heard the whispers as she left the lab with Linus. From the gossiped conversation, it was obvious that everyone in the lab thought she was sleeping with him. It didn't bother her any, but might put a kink in the man's love life if everyone thought he was dating a vampire.

The Goblet was already hopping by the time Lacey arrived, but she found a small booth off to one corner and claimed it. A perky, blonde waitress came over almost immediately, and Lacey ordered herself a scotch. "I've got company coming, though, and I'm not sure what he'll want."

"Just give me a wave when he gets here and I'll get you, honey!" The young woman bounced away. Karaoke night seemed to be in full swing, and Lacey watched in amusement as a trio of drunk 20-somethings took the stage to belt out the lyrics to a popular rock song. They butchered the song, with much giggling and swaying, but they looked like they were having fun. Then, she winced as a young man began to sing of lost love in an off-key tone, and with more than a few of the words missing.

Lacey was spared hearing the rest of the song as Linus slid into the booth across from her. "I'd forgotten it was karaoke night."

She laughed. "You just missed a good one," she commented as the music wound down. Glancing around, she caught her waitress' eye and waved. After Linus had ordered a house beer and a round of chili cheese fries, she asked him, "So, other than my stuff, what's going on? Anything new and interesting?"

"There's nothing as interesting as what you've handed me," he commented with a twinkle in his eye. "Believe me girl, I'm loving the fact that you brought me this one. I'll probably end up with a paper after it's all said and done. But let's not talk about work, I'm so tired of work!"

Again, Lacey laughed. "But I'm not interesting unless it's about work!"

"Of course you are, darling! Tell me something I didn't know."

"My partner's family killed my family." She regretted saying it the moment it was out of her mouth, but there was no taking back the dry statement. I don't know where that came from! Maybe Marcell is right; I need to get it out in order to get over it.

Linus had just taken a swig of his beer, and his eyes widened in surprise, while he choked and coughed and tried to swallow the liquid. When he'd recovered his breath, he gasped, "What?"

"You heard me right." Lacey resigned herself to a conversation that she did not care to have. "He dropped that little bomb on me the other day, thought I already knew."

"Oh my God!" The man exclaimed. "What--well, how--"

"I'd rather not think about it, much less talk about it, if you don't mind."

"Sure, sure. But you know, if you do, you've got my number."

"Actually," and her voice was rueful, "the commander's making me see someone. Marcell Dilorenzo."

"Vampire shrink extraordinaire?"

"Yeah, imagine that."

Linus seemed to sense that she was getting uncomfortable, so he turned the conversation to one of his favorite topics: sports. Though Lacey wasn't much of a watcher of sports, she did enjoy watching Dallas' hockey team, and the talk was high about them making the playoffs this year. Lacey appreciated the effort, though, and so they finished a couple more drinks, then called it a night.

# 19

Lacey hadn't slept much during the past two nights. Her brain would not stop thinking, running evidence over and over again from different angles. She was also on edge expecting reports from the uniforms she'd ordered to shadow their suspect, calling to say that they had caught Jason Blyge trying to leave town and had detained him per their orders. Nothing new had broken in the case, and waiting was always the hardest part.

She was a bit surprised, and therefore suspicious, that Blyge hadn't tried to leave town, knowing that he was now a suspect in their assault and home invasion cases. She had sensed Blyge's intelligence when they interviewed him, and knew that he would be good at disappearing and reappearing somewhere far away with a different name and appearance. In her own experience, it had been all too easy for her to do the same. Any Immortal a few hundred years old would have the necessary knowledge.

So she walked toward her office with a sense of expectation; she was certain the new evidence would be arriving from Louisiana and she was eager to get on with it. Lacey imagined her partner was wound up the same way. The previous day, Colton had paced around the bullpen like a dervish until she had sent him home early out of a desperate need for some quiet time. She was certain she would have gone crazy had he whipped by her office door one more time. Lacey told him that they might be running some overtime once they had enough evidence for an arrest warrant on Blyge, and the reason seemed to satisfy him.

But this was a new day, and Lacey hoped they could make some real progress on their case today. She was somewhat relieved to find that Colton wasn't in the bullpen waiting to pounce on her, but before she could even think about closing the office door, he popped into the doorway, his usual mug of coffee in hand. As if he needs any caffeine to wire him up!

"Anything new?"

She suppressed a sigh. "I just got here." She let a bit of frustration seep into her voice. "You know we won't get any mail until a little later in the morning."

"I know, I know." He dragged a hand through his unruly hair and started pacing. I don't have the patience for this today, she thought, annoyed to be starting her day with Colton still just as keyed up as he had been yesterday. "So, what do we have planned?"

"Why don't you give Mr. Colby a call, show him the pictures we have of Jason Blyge. Maybe he can give us a positive ID. In that case, we could go pick him up right now."

"Yeah, and the evidence coming in would just be another nail in his coffin, so to speak."

At least that gets him out of my hair for another few minutes. Though Lacey had no idea if she'd be able to keep her partner occupied until the mail came in. They were pretty much up to date on their case book, at least until any new reports came in. She needed some sort of busy work to keep her partner's attention. But something that he can't know is busy work, or else he'll just whine and complain!

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton was complaining, if only under his breath. What difference does it make if our witnesses can ID him? We'll have this new evidence soon anyway! He just knew that the DNA evidence was going to be all that was necessary to grant them an arrest warrant. He couldn't imagine it going any other way, he was that sure of Blyge's guilt. He was still cursing as he sat down at his desk and pulled his tablet from his pocket.

Pulling the phone closer to him, he lifted the receiver and started scrolling through the case notes on the tablet until he found the phone number Dennis Colby had given them. The other man answered on the third ring.

"This is Detective Colton. I have a picture that I'd like to show you, see if this is the guy who beat you up. Is this a good time to talk?"

"Yeah, man, you interrupted advanced algebra. You can take all the time you need!"

Colton shuddered at the memory of his attempts in algebra classes. Thank goodness I didn't have to take it to work here! Colton activated the messaging application on his tablet and punched in Colby's number. In an instant, the device had sent the ID photo of Jason Blyge to the victim's phone. "Is this the guy in the bar?"

"Give me a second, let me look." Colton could hear the faint beeping sounds from the phone as Colby shuffled through his phone and pulled up the photo. "I don't know for sure. I mean, he looked similar to this guy. But his hair was different. He was kind of clean-shaven, not shaggy like this photo. I can't say 100 percent."

Colton gave an inward curse. "Is there anything else about this photo that seems familiar? The suspect may have altered his appearance." It was the closest he could get to telling the other man that the suspect may be a Skinwalker. He and Lacey were under orders from the commander not to reveal that bit of information before they made an arrest.

"Well, the square jaw might be the same." Colby's voice was muffled and far away, and Colton imagined that he was talking while looking at the photo. "But man, it was kind of dark in the parking lot, and it all happened so fast!"

"Thanks," Colton said, defeated. "Thanks for your help. We'll be in touch." He hung up the phone and deactivated his tablet. He barely resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room. Instead, counting to ten, he approached Lacey's office. She was just hanging up the phone as well.

"Did you talk to Mr. Colby?"

"Yeah, for all the good it did," he replied sullenly. "It 'might' be the same guy." He mimed air quotes. "But his facial hair has been shaved, and the only other thing the wit said could resemble the suspect was the square jaw."

"That's not going to get us a warrant." He could hear the frustration in her voice.

"No, not if what we suspect about this asshole is true. Damn it!" He snarled. "DNA is going to be the only way we can get this guy!"

"I know. That was Linus on the phone. He said you had the evidence officer in Louisiana ship the samples directly to him. That was good thinking on your part."

"Well I know how the mail can get lost around here. Anyway, it would just take us extra time having to drive it over there, and the lab maintains chain of custody and all that crap."

"That's true as well. Still, good job."

He beamed with the compliment. "So, now what?'

"Now? We wait."

# 20

By the end of the week, the DNA evidence was in. Late Friday afternoon, Lacey and Colton were scheduled to meet with Joe and Janessa at the DA's office. Linus had sent his findings directly to Janessa, so Lacey and Colton were still in the dark as to whether Louisiana's DNA sample matched Jason Blyge. Colton was wound tight as a spring, and Lacey feared that, had the tests not been concluded when they were, he wouldn't have made it through the weekend without bursting.

It was with mixed feelings that Lacey took a seat next to her partner in the DA's plush conference room. On the one hand, if the results were in their favor, they would soon be on their way to arrest their prime suspect. However, if it went the other direction they would be fresh out of leads. Lacey declined refreshment when Joe offered, though Colton asked for coffee, and seemed happy to have something to hold. He passed the mug from one hand to another restlessly.

Jenessa arrived, passed Joe a paper file, and sat, pulling her glasses from her pocket and settling them on her nose. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Colton answered. Lacey nodded in acknowledgment.

"I take it neither of you have seen these results?"

"Not yet, we haven't." Lacey answered for them both.

Joe flipped open the file and scanned it. "According to Linus, the sample from Louisiana and your suspect's DNA are..." He paused for effect. "It's a perfect match."

Lacey had been unaware that she was holding her breath until it whooshed out in a relieved gasp. She exchanged glances with Colton. He broke out in a wide grin.

"Excellent," Lacey said, looking from Joe to Jenessa and back again. "So, what's the next step?"

Jenessa peered through her glasses. "I've submitted all the information to the judge. He should be in the process of clearing your warrant. I don't see any reason why he wouldn't sign it. But I think you should wait here until it comes through."

Colton looked confused. "But if you don't see any reason why he wouldn't sign it, why wait?"

"I understand." Lacey spread her hands to placate him. "If we don't wait for the warrant to come in, and something happens to delay it, or if they judge doesn't sign it, then we've tipped him off even more. And this way, it can go down by the book."

Colton gnashed his teeth in frustration. Lacey understood the emotion, but she had more practice at patience. She placed her hand on his arm with a touch that was light as a feather. Over the course of this investigation, Lacey found herself adjusting to his presence, and accepting him as her partner. Though she told him it would be difficult to trust him, it seemed she was heading in that direction.

Jenessa pushed back from the table and crossed her legs. "So you have experience with one of these Immortals?" She asked Lacey.

"A little," Lacey admitted. "It was a very long time ago, and most of the time, it was my mentor who had dealings with it." She gave a brief explanation of how she had come to know the Skinwalker. Jenessa seemed ready to press her for more details, but Joe's tablet gave a soft chime, and he quickly read the message.

"Your warrant's in," he informed the two officers. "Go get this guy."

Colton was on his feet before the other man finished speaking. Lacey was right behind him. She, however, remembered her manners. "Thank you." She shook both attorneys' hands, and left the conference room with her partner.

"It's a bit late in the day." When Colton spoke, she realized that in her excitement her stride was making it hard for him to keep up. "You think he's still at work?"

"I'm not sure. Why don't you call McCormick when we get to the car? I'm not sure if he'll still be at Bank of America, but his apartment is closer. I'll head in that direction while you make the phone call."

"Sounds like a plan."

Jason Blyge wasn't at home. Lacey even went to the trouble to ring another apartment and ask for access to the building, and Colton pounded on the door for several minutes, but his knocks remained unanswered. According to the receptionist at McCormick Shine, who was on her way out the door for the weekend, the main computer at the office only synced with the systems at various locations in the city on an hourly basis. As it was just after five, Lacey had stopped at Blyge's apartment before heading to the location that was his current assignment.

Now, they were on their way to the Bank of America building, where they were told their suspect would be assigned until the middle of next week. Lacey wasn't looking forward to going back up on that roof, but she knew her duty was to apprehend the Skinwalker and bring him to justice. However, she could think up no acceptable excuse to ask her partner to confront the man by himself. So, she forced herself to push the elevator button for the top floor, and tried to push her fear out of her mind.

If Colton noticed her discomfort, he didn't let on. Maybe he's forgotten, her mind whispered. When they stepped from the elevator on the top floor, she saw that the access door was propped open as it was supposed to be. More than likely, Blyge was in one of the cages hanging from the side of the building. She touched Colton lightly on the arm before stepping to the short staircase.

"There's no way of knowing which side of the building he's on," Lacey said. "I think we should split up, work our way opposite one another until we meet in the middle."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Colton argued. "He's dangerous."

"If he's in one of the cages, there's no way he could catch either of us unaware."

"If he's in one of the cages. There's no guarantee he is."

"True. But I think we'll need the element of surprise. Put your phone on hands-free mode." She did the same with her phone as she talked.

"I got a bad feeling about this." Colton made the adjustments to his phone.

"Quiet. Stay on your toes. We come up the stairs, I'll go right, you go left. If you see him, use code 10-18 and the compass direction." She referred to police code meaning 'quickly'. "I'll do the same."

With a worried look on his face, Colton nodded acknowledgment. They took the stairs together, but Lacey's longer stride carried her to the open door first. Her weapon was in her hand in an instant. Flattening herself up against the wall of the stairwell, she pivoted, glanced out the door, and returned to her position against the wall in one smooth movement. "Clear." Her voice was a ghostly whisper. Colton nodded and drew his weapon as well. "Be careful." It was the last thing she said before they went their separate ways.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Colton stopped short, scrubbing one large hand over his eyes to clear his vision. That's impossible, he thought. There were two of her. The hands gripping his service pistol trembled and went sweaty. For a brief moment, he was startled by the sight of two Laceys, squared up and fighting kung fu style. Kick, block, punch. Spin, kick, roll. He couldn't shoot because, as far as he could see, there was no way to tell them apart.

Blood ran from the nose of one of the Laceys, and when they spun around, he noticed the other one had a shallow cut down the cheek. One of them jumped up, spun, and delivered a kick to the chest of her opponent that would have stopped a human, and quite a few Immortals, in his tracks.

"Give it up, Blyge!" His bellow fell on deaf ears; the wind at the top of the building was howling so much that any words he may have voiced was immediately shoved into the back of his throat.

But somehow, Jason Blyge knew he was there, just behind the stairs leading down from the roof. Blyge looked up with a feral grin. In a flash, he snatched the real Lacey close to him, one slender yet muscular arm wrapped around her neck. Her hands went to her throat, but it was obvious that they were matched in strength. The Skinwalker sneered at him, swaying back and forth as he held Lacey in a choke hold, making sure he was in constant motion.

"Put your gun down and slide it toward me!" The Skinwalker demanded.

Colton hesitated. It was against department policy to negotiate with suspects, but an entirely different situation when the subject had his partner in a death grip on top of a skyscraper. He lowered his gun a fraction.

Seeing that Colton had no intention of putting down his weapon, Blyge continued to weave, presenting a moving target, while making his way closer to the edge of the building. Lacey was no longer struggling against the grip of her copy, but Colton could tell by the look in her eyes that she was evaluating, trying to get a sense of the Skinwalker's weaknesses. But, he could tell that she was also scared.

"Put your gun down," the suspect demanded again. "Or I throw her off the edge!"

Colton, well aware of his partner's fear of heights, saw the terror in Lacey's eyes intensify. Her mouth moved almost imperceptibly around the word, "Don't." But he now knew he didn't have a choice.

He wasn't about to let Blyge throw his partner from the building. But if he gave up his pistol, he would have to rely on the secondary weapon he wore around his ankle; but the ankle holster was meant as a backup, not as a quick-draw weapon. Slowly, he lowered his service pistol, crouching at the knees to lay it on the pebbled surface of the roof. With both hands out to his side, he straightened and kicked the weapon so that it clattered across the gravel with a skittering noise.

Blyge's eyes tracked the gun as it slid across the roof. His distraction was obviously the moment Lacey had been waiting for; she placed one foot between each of Blyge's, landed a hard backwards kick to one of his kneecaps, and did a neat little twist and dive, sending the copy of herself over her back and through the air. Colton breathed a sigh of relief, for at least he could tell them apart now. The real Lacey had the vicious slice down the right cheek.

Lacey remained in a fighting stance as the suspect climbed slowly to his feet. Then he charged, and she waited until the last minute before stepping to one side and using her hip to throw him off balance. He grabbed her wrist as he went by, and fumbled to keep his feet under him. The rest happened in slow motion.

The Skinwalker fell to his knees, dropping Lacey's wrist to block his fall with his hands. But the act of grabbing her had caused her body to start moving toward him, and she tripped over him as he went down. Colton watched in horror as she went over the safety rail and disappeared from sight.

"Lacey!" Colton was sure his voice couldn't be heard over the wailing of the wind.

Blyge had jumped to his feet and was momentarily stunned by the sudden disappearance of his opponent. Colton took the opportunity to crouch, pull the small .38 caliber revolver from his ankle, roll away from Jason Blyge, and take aim. It was difficult to pull the trigger on a suspect wearing his partner's face, though he knew it wasn't really her. His finger twitched and the gun fired, putting a single round into Blyge's left shoulder; the suspect crumpled to the ground. Then, after securing both his backup and service pistols, and verifying that Blyge was unconscious, Colton bolted for the side of the building.

Almost afraid to, he ducked down between two of the fence rails and peeked over the edge of the roof. His breath whooshed out in relief as he saw Lacey clinging to a narrow strip of molding above one of the building's windows, her boots dug into a narrow crack between the wall and a minuscule ledge. Her horror-stricken face revealed the strain she was under as she tried not to move. Her arms trembled from the effort, and he saw her lower lip quiver. Lacey's blue eyes bored into his, pleading with him, please don't let me fall!

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey had never felt fright quite as intense as what washed over her as she tumbled from the side of the building. Her fear of heights had doubled as she had fought with her look-alike on the roof. She thought all was okay after the kick to the knee and the swift toss that had brought down Blyge, but in the next instant, she felt the rush of air and the sensation of falling. Her stomach rolled in sickening symphony as she tried to twist her body in mid-air.

She went off the roof nearly backwards, and only her lightning-quick reflexes saved her life. Her hands reached out, finding a slightly raised surface to grab onto. Her body then impacted with the solid wall, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

Now she clung, helpless, to the side of a 60-story building, the wind howling in her ears and flapping her clothing against her body. Her arms, for all their strength, were starting to quiver with the strain of holding most of her body weight. She could feel her boots beginning to slip on the narrow ledge beneath her. Lacey strained to keep her body as flat as she could against the building, knowing that a strong enough gust of wind meant certain death.

She saw Colton's concerned face peek over the edge of the roof, framed by the deep blue sky. She felt a glimmer of amusement; she had to admit she was happy to see him.

"Are you okay?" His voice sounded strained as he leaned over the edge.

"I've been better." She fought to keep her voice steady, while trying not to move. She couldn't stop the trembling in her arms, and she knew her strength wouldn't hold her to the wall much longer.

"Okay, just hold on. I'll be right back." And he disappeared from sight, leaving behind a wash of fear that flowed over her like ice water. She strained to keep her body pressed as tight as she could to the wall, praying that her arms and legs would hold on just a few more minutes. Had she been human, her heart would have been pounding; the virus in her system kept her vital signs at a steady and healthy pace, maximizing the symbiotic balance between her and it. She counted her breaths.

Several moments passed, and Colton's head reappeared above her. He leaned over as far as he could. "Can you grab my hand?" He bellowed over the sound of the wind.

She dug the fingers of her left, stronger hand into the window molding as hard as she could. Her fear was so intense that it was almost impossible to make the fingers of her right hand let go of the narrow strip. But she did finally pry them away from the building, reaching as high as she could. Colton did the same, one muscular arm stretched out to her. Just like that, a stray thought ran through her mind, the same thought she'd had when she'd first learned she would be partnered with a Wolf. Wolves cannot be trusted. There remains too much of the animal in them.

Colton almost lost his grip on the safety rail, and there was no chance of Lacey reaching him unless she jumped, something she didn't dare attempt on her fatigued and wobbly legs. She didn't even try standing on her toes to gain the extra few inches; she could feel how worn and crumbling the outer shell of the building was under her feet. "It's no use!" She modulated the tone of her voice so he could hear her over the wind. "I can't reach!"

"Just stay there, and hold on. Don't move."

As he vanished from sight, she thought, Just where do you expect me to go? No, don't think about that. Lacey fought the urge to look down, knowing that if she did, the fear would petrify her, making her unable to move when she needed to. She had no idea how Colton intended to save her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to hold on long enough for a rescue team to arrive. Assuming they could figure out how to get to her. She risked a quick glance around, and her heart fell when she realized she wasn't close enough to one of the scaffolds to seek refuge there.

"Lacey!" Colton's urgent voice startled her, almost making her lose her grip. Steadying herself, she looked up at him. He was wearing a harness-like device the color of John Deere yellow, and he was leaning over the roof past the hips. He had obviously attached himself to something sturdy. "Come on, let's get you up."

His fingertips were mere centimeters from hers, and she suddenly remembered the revulsion she'd felt the first time she'd met her partner. She'd had to force herself to shake the Wolf's hand and say stiffly, "Welcome aboard." And that, only because decorum demanded it. She reached for him again, expecting to feel the same sensation of disgust. Again, her hand fell minutely short.

"Lacey." His voice seemed suddenly loud, as if the howling of the wind had died down at the exact moment he spoke. Her vision narrowed as if in a tunnel; she could see only his arm, running up to meet his shoulder, and his concerned face framed against the pale sky. He wriggled off the roof just a bit more, and he, too, was in a precarious position. "Lacey, trust me. I've got you."

She took a deep breath, shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet, and dropped her heels. She pushed off, using her feet like a spring and trusting her instincts and reflexes to connect with him. For a brief moment, as she hovered in the air, Lacey thought she'd failed. Then she heard the satisfying sound of her hand slapping tightly to his wrist, and his doing the same. She heard him grunt with the effort to bear her weight. There was no longer anything for her to put her toes into, so she swung up her other arm, grabbing tight to the harness around the man's chest.

Colton pulled as she gripped the harness, and let go of his hand, reaching now for the lowest safety rail. The rest happened all in a rush; the next thing Lacey knew, she was laying on her side on the baking hot rock of the building's roof. Colton was panting from the exertion, but he had a big, goofy grin on his face. She knew the relief she felt couldn't be conveyed with a simple glance; instead, Lacey did something she never would have thought possible: she reached out and gave her partner a hug.

He seemed embarrassed, but Colton gave her an awkward, one-armed hug, the kind male acquaintances often give one another. She heard something and released him, her head whipping around and scanning the rooftop.

"Are you okay?" Colton climbed to his feet.

"I'm fine." He offered her his hand and helped her to stand. "What about--"

He grinned again. "See for yourself." He gestured behind her. She looked over her shoulder to find Jason Blyge, laying on his stomach, his hands cuffed behind his back, and just coming to. His face, or rather, her face, was cut and bleeding, and some of the skin had sloughed off, revealing the man's form beneath it. One eye was swollen shut and beginning to blacken.

Lacey turned away from her partner and, with a confident stride, went over to the Skinwalker. She rolled him onto his back, not even trying to be gentle. A gasp of pain escaped as the weight of the suspect's body fell onto the cuffed hands. "You're under arrest, you son-of-a-bitch." Blyge didn't bother to respond.

After calling an ambulance and a pair of officers to ride to Medical City with their suspect, Lacey and Colton made the drive through heavy traffic to the hospital. Colton explained how he'd seen her go off the roof and how he'd fired while Blyge was disconcerted. "Then I ran over, hoping that you'd found a ledge or something," Colton continued his story as they walked into the ER. "And the first time I left you, I'd heard him moaning. My service gun was still on that roof somewhere, and I knew I had to cuff him quickly, or else we'd both be in trouble."

"You did right." She responded in a quiet voice.

"And if I had to punch him in the face and break his nose in order to subdue him, well, that's just necessary force." He cocked his lips in a grin.

"You did just right."

# Epilogue

Colton tugged at his suit tie and swore. The long hair she had grown accustomed to in the past months was now trimmed to frame his square face. Lacey glanced at him as they walked up the short flight of stairs leading to the doorway of the Dallas County Courthouse. It had been completed in 1892 and was a beautiful example of Romanesque architecture. The granite and red sandstone gleamed in the light of the midday sun. Eight rounded turrets rose six floors above street level, and at the center of the building stood a clock tower, still announcing the time with the ringing of its dulcet bells. Blue granite made up the first two floors and arched gracefully over each window.

"What is it?" She asked, stopping on the top step.

"I hate the courthouse." He looked down as he said it, a mannerism she had learned meant he was uncomfortable in admitting something.

"I don't like it much myself." She agreed. "But, catching the bad guy is only part of the job."

"Yeah, I know." They walked through the door, side-stepping the full body X-ray and metal detector. A large crowd had gathered in the spacious foyer, cameras and microphones in hand. As they caught sight of Lacey and Colton, there was a rush and press of bodies, and a din of voices calling out various questions, none of which the two officers were authorized to answer. Just before stepping into the courtroom, Lacey turned to the members of the press.

"We can not and will not give you any information or comments regarding this case. The department will issue a statement later this week. No further comments." Her voice rose with the last statement, as she tried to speak over the reporters who had begun to yell their questions even louder. Lacey turned her back on the press and walked diligently through the large oak double doors leading into Courtroom A, the largest room the building provided.

"And that's one of the reasons why!" He referred to the reporters.

The room was already filled to near-capacity. Their mediocre assault case had become an overnight sensation when DNA testing had confirmed that Jason Blyge was indeed a Skinwalker. Once that bit of information had leaked to the press, there was no stopping it. Over the months since the arrest, through all the pretrial procedure and jury selection, one or more newspaper or TV reporters had been in or around the courtroom.

One of the TV news channels had even gotten their hands on some video of Lacey's close call on the building; several people in offices right next door had watched in awe as the drama had unfolded, and recorded it with their cell phones. The videos had gone viral world-wide in just a couple of days. All the media attention had proven embarrassing to Lacey.

So, it was no surprise to her that the courtroom was so crowded. Not everyone was seated in the long, narrow wooden benches; many people were standing along the outer walls of the room, and everyone seemed to be having conversations in low voices. Lacey spotted an empty bench at the front that had been roped off, as one would do at a wedding chapel. She tapped her partner and indicated the bench with her chin.

"At least they saved us a spot." She was amused.

They elbowed their way through the press of people until they were at the front of the room, just behind the bench where the prosecution's team would sit. The bailiff unhooked the red velvet rope stretched across the walkway between the bar rail and the first row of seats, allowing them to enter before clipping it back into place. The low rumble of voices continued. Lacey spotted quite a few cops in the crowd, some in plain off-duty clothing, some still in their uniforms.

As they sat, Joe turned to them from in front of the intricately carved railing separating the front of the courtroom from the general seating area in the back.

He shook both their hands, saying, "This is about to turn into a media circus, I'm afraid. This case has garnered a lot of attention since Mr. Blyge was arrested." Jenessa Donner, Joe's boss, was also there, sorting through piles of paper and taking notes on her tablet, and she glanced at them with a tight smile of acknowledgment.

"I can imagine." Lacey stuck her hands into the pocket of her cocoa-colored suit jacket. "The fact that a living, breathing Skinwalker has been found alive has been all the talk of reporters and newspapers for months."

"Not to mention said Skinwalker being indicted for multiple counts of assault here, spanning 90 years, and facing additional charges in Louisiana!" Colton spoke up for the first time. He looked nervous and jittery in his dark suit. At least he seemed more at ease with the young assistant district attorney; both he and Lacey had spent countless hours during the past months going over and over their testimony for this case. The commander had even granted them some overtime hours due to the defendant's attorneys filing various motions of continuance that delayed the case.

"Are you nervous?" With a glance, Joe included both of them in the question.

"We got this." Colton looked over at Lacey with a smile. She gave him a small grin in return.

Then, the door to the left of the judge's bench opened, and in came several corrections officers, leading Jason Blyge to his seat across from the prosecution's table. He was wearing the blaze orange jumpsuit of a prisoner. His hands were cuffed together, and held down by a steel chain belt around his waist. The man's feet were also shackled. It looked as if no one wanted to take a chance of him escaping.

The corrections officers in charge of the prisoner were all Shifters; medical testing over the past months had determined that the DNA from a Shifter was the only genetic material the Skinwalker could not copy. It was also discovered that the man could only sample and copy someone whom he'd come into physical contact with. He could not simply turn into any random person by using the DNA from normal dead cells shed by the human body to become dust.

Here in the courtroom, Blyge would have no access to fresh DNA, as the first two row of benches behind the bar on the defendant's side were empty. The suspect's flock of attorneys had been given strict instructions not to touch their client, and he was seated in a chair away from the defense's table, his back to the wall and looking directly into the jury box. The officers escorting him had cuffed his arms to rings in the chair, and were standing at attention to either side.

From the right of the bench, another door opened and the jury was escorted into the room by the bailiff. The rumble of conversation quieted as the twelve men and women took their seats in the jury box. They were a mixed group consisting of five humans, three men and two women; two male Shifters; one female Shifter; and four Vampires, two males and two females.

Joe turned back to the front of the room as Janessa said under her breath, "Here we go."

"All rise!" The bailiff called, opening the door directly behind the judge's bench. "Dallas County District Court is now in session, Judge Garfield, presiding!" The noise level increased, then the room grew so quiet, Lacey imagined even a Vampire couldn't hear a pin drop. District Court judge Montegue Garfield made his entrance to the court. The middle-aged man was a tall, severe figure in his black judge's robes. He had a full mane of silver hair, and his face was deeply wrinkled. He'd been a judge long enough to have retired from it.

Lacey had come into contact with the judge a few times throughout her career, and she knew he was a stickler for the law. Anything and everything being admitted into evidence in his court had to be perfect. Not for the first time, Lacey was glad she had enlisted Linus' help in processing the strange evidence they had gathered over the course of their investigation. Linus was just as straight-forward with his testimony as she was, and he knew how to engage the jury.

Once Judge Garfield took his seat, the rest of the room did the same. The judge shuffled some papers, banged his gavel down with a sharp sound, and looked expectantly at the prosecutors.

Janessa stepped forward, tugging down the jacket of her tailored navy suit. She walked in front of the prosecution's bench, gave the judge a nod of acknowledgment, and approached the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are here today in the matter of the state of Texas versus Jason Blyge, AKA Blaze Sherman. The charges against Mr. Blyge are numerous, not only here but in the state of Louisiana as well."

Lacey felt Colton shift next to her, and slanted her eyes in his direction. "Yes, they decided to add in the cold case you found." Her voice was whisper-quiet, pitched so that only he could hear it. "They matched the DNA from that case to him as well."

"Good." Like her, Colton kept his voice down, but he couldn't hide the smug tone. She nodded agreement then turned back to the proceedings.

Janessa had continued her opening statement. "Mr. Blyge is a species of Immortal called a Skinwalker. We have now mapped his complete DNA code, and it is DNA the likes of which we've never seen before. However, because that code is so unique, we will present evidence to you that should leave no doubt in your mind that the defendant is, in fact, the person who committed the crimes we will tell you about. The first charge of assault is from April 24, 2028. The victim was his 28 year old live-in girlfriend, who unfortunately has since passed away. But even then, the Dallas Police Department collected DNA from the young woman at the time of the assault. This DNA, as we'll later prove, belongs to Mr. Blyge."

Janessa turned from the jury then, clasped her hands lightly behind her back, and took a few steps toward the table where the defense lawyers sat. Then she turned back to the jury. "Our second case was an assault and rape of a young woman in Louisiana. We will not be trying the defendant in this court on this charge, however we can verify that once again, DNA belonging to Mr. Blyge can be matched to DNA from this case. Finally, we have the newest charges: assault and rape, a home invasion, a simple assault, and an assault on a peace officer. Not to mention the lesser charge of evading the Undead Registry. Again, we will provide you with the evidence that should prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Mr. Blyge was the assailant in all these cases."

"She's good," Colton whispered into Lacey's ear as he watched Janessa maintain eye contact with each individual juror. Lacey gave a slight nod in return.

"The defense is going to tell you that since Mr. Blyge is an unknown species of Immortal, there may be others of his kind unknown to us, and that we can't possibly prove that his DNA is unique among his species. They will claim that since the defendant's DNA is always mixed with that of a human, there's no definitive way to prove that the samples collected after these crimes match his. They will try to create confusion among you, hoping for a mistrial or hung jury. But I will prove to you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the defendant is guilty of these crimes, and ask that he be punished accordingly. Thank you."

Janessa returned to her seat. Joe put his mouth to her ear and whispered something Lacey couldn't quite catch. Then one of Blyge's lawyers stood.

"We would like to withhold our opening statement, Your Honor."

"So be it." The judge banged his gavel once more.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

It was the third day of the trial, and already Colton was chafing at the bit to get it done and over. I'm getting tired of getting up every damn morning and putting on a damn monkey suit to sit here and do nothing! He had a scowl on his face as he approached the courtroom doors. Wish I could catch a big case, something, anything to get me out of here! But he was scheduled to testify in today's proceedings, and he wanted more than anything to put Blyge away, where he could no longer harm anyone.

As had become their habit, he met Lacey at the top of the courthouse steps. She was dressed in a well-tailored pants suit of dark blue, and carried her customary cup of tea from her favored coffee shop. In the other hand, she held her tablet, and she was dictating notes in her soft voice. She looked up when he approached.

"Are you ready?" She asked him.

He shrugged, trying to show that it didn't bother him, but seeing the look on Lacey's face, he assumed he'd failed. "Joe drilled the routine into me enough, I think I can handle it."

"But-?" The look she gave him spoke volumes. Ever since the incident on the roof, it seemed that their relationship had gotten easier. He thought maybe he'd earned just of bit of her respect, and her trust.

"But I still hate speaking in front of people. Especially this many people."

It was true. The case hadn't lost any of its public appeal, and each day they stepped into the courtroom, it was filled beyond capacity. Everyone in the city was waiting and watching to see how it would turn out.

"Just keep your anger under control." He couldn't tell if she'd meant it as advice or a joke.

Once the jury had been seated and the room was called to order, Joe stood and said, "We call to the stand Detective Colton Scarber."

He made his way to the witness stand, and tried to get comfortable in the small chair not meant for someone with his bulk. He was sworn in, then Joe asked him to state his name and rank for the record. The court reporter dutifully entered the pertinent information then paused, awaiting the prosecution's questioning.

"Detective, tell me about the first scene."

"A young woman had been assaulted on her way to the subway. She thought her attacker had been a Wolf, so that's how we caught the case."

"And was there any evidence that would have been from a Wolf at the scene?"

"No. All we recovered was some bloody clothing belonging to the victim, and a bit of tissue in some clear goop."

"And that bit of tissue was later identified as belonging to a Skinwalker, to the defendant?" Joe was expertly tossing out the questions.

"Yes, it was."

"And what did you find at the second scene?"

"It was a home invasion. At first it didn't seem to make any sense, but we knew it was connected because of the scent."

Joe turned to look at the jury as if lost in thought. "What scent?"

Colton squirmed a bit in his seat. "The first vic, Angelica, had told Lieutenant Anderson that she'd smelled an odor, like cinnamon, coming from the attacker. Lieutenant Anderson smelled something similar at the home invasion scene, and she brought it to my attention. I guess she was hoping that I could identify it. To me, it smelled like pumpkin pie, or the kind of spicy scent that's popular around Thanksgiving and Christmas."

"And did you ever identify that scent?" Joe faced him with a direct stare.

"Lieutenant Anderson talked to a tech in the Olfactory Unit. Nothing was on record of that scent being associated with any species of Undead."

"But can you now identify that scent?"

"Objection!" One of Blyge's attorneys stood. "Opinion, not fact!"

"Overruled," Judge Garfield declared. "The witness will answer the question."

"Yes, Your Honor." As instructed, Colton passed a sweeping glance at the jury, then looked at the suspect sitting apart from his council across the courtroom. "It's the smell of a Skinwalker."

"And the defendant in particular?" Joe pressed him for a more complete answer.

"Yes, that scent comes from Jason Blyge."

"Objection!" This came from another of the defendant's legal team. "He's leading the witness."

Judge Garfield shook his head. "Sustained."

Joe faced the jury and said, "Detective Colton, let me rephrase. Have you ever encountered this particular scent before?"

"No."

"So, to clarify, the only time you remember coming across this particular scent is when you were close to the defendant?"

"Yes."

"Objection," the lawyer argued. "Sense of smell is subjective from person to person!"

"Overruled." The judge's voice became hard. "Detective Scarber, while not an olfactory tech, certainly has a better sense of smell than a human does. His testimony will stay on the record."

The defense attorney sat back down, and Blyge rattled the handcuffs pinning his wrists to the arms of his chair. He glared at Colton in what seemed to be barely-contained rage. Colton could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"We will call an expert witness in due time." Joe addressed both the judge and the defense. "However, the smell was first brought to light by the first assault victim, who mentioned it to Lieutenant Anderson, isn't that right?"

Colton shifted his weight in the hard chair. "Yes."

"And what did you later learn regarding the second crime scene? The home invasion?"

"The apartment belonging to the second victim, Mrs. Smith, was the same apartment Blaze Sherman's girlfriend lived in when he was questioned about her assault 90 years ago." Colton passed his gaze over the jury. "It was discovered that the defendant had a hidden compartment inside the victim's book case, and he returned to the apartment in an attempt to find several pieces of false identification he'd hidden there long ago."

"What sort of identification?" Joe asked.

"Birth certificates, work IDs, even social security cards, all using different aliases."

"His plan was to run?"

"Objection!" The defense attorney seemed outraged. "The witness can't possibly know why my client had that documentation."

"Sustained," the judge ordered.

"No further questions, your Honor." Joe was satisfied that the jury now knew about the suspect's plans to flee from justice, and returned to his seat next to Janessa, while one of the defense lawyers shuffled through several pages of yellow legal tablet. Then he stood, buttoned his coat, and bored his deep brown eyes into Colton's.

"Detective." His voice had a nasal quality to it, very similar to the voice of the man he was defending. For a brief moment, Colton thought, what if the bastard's defense attorney is a damn Skinwalker, too? "In your report of the first incident, you state that the victim identified what she thought was the smell of cinnamon, is that correct?"

"Yes, but--"

The lawyer cut him off short. "A simple yes or no will suffice." He shuffled through his paper tablet again. Colton felt a sense of smug superiority as he watched the man thumb through his notes. "And at the second scene, you mentioned the smell of pumpkin pie, correct?"

"Yes, I did, but--"

He was smoothly cut off once more. He felt his temper begin to flare. "So how is it you think these two scents could possibly be related to my client?"

"Well, I didn't smell anything in the alley, at the first scene. By the time I arrived, the vic was already on her way to the hospital. But I definitely smelled it at the second scene. It reminded me of the holidays."

"So you can't, in fact, prove that the same smell was at both scenes?"

"No."

"So you can't, in fact, know that my client was at both scenes?"

Colton was growing frustrated at this line of questioning, even though Joe had prepared him for it. "No, I can't prove he was there. That's the evidence's job."

"And at the third scene, not one person you interviewed mentioned any kind of scent?"

"Objection!" Janessa stood, beating Joe to it by mere seconds. "Argumentative!" She stared at the opposing counsel with a look that put Colton on edge, though it was not aimed in his direction.

"Sustained," the judge bellowed.

Evidently satisfied with his line of questioning, the lawyer turned toward his seat with the other members of the defense team. "No further questions, Your Honor."

"The witness is excused." The bailiff directed him back to his seat then called Shellie, the olfactory tech Lacey had first talked to, as an expert witness. Colton wiggled on the hard wooden bench, trying, and not succeeding, to get comfortable. He had a feeling this would all take a really long time.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

The jury had reached a verdict. Lacey was at home when the call came in. She'd been on edge ever since the jury had been sequestered. Her mind swung back and forth like the pendulum of a clock: guilty, not guilty. Guilty, not guilty. She barely slept, and when she did, nightmares of the episode on the roof haunted her. Marcell had met with her several times, but no amount of talking about the incident helped to relieve the nightmares. More so than most other cases she'd worked, Lacey was ready to finally put this one to rest.

Colton met her at the top of the stairs. She must have looked tired, for he asked by way of greeting, "Long night?"

"Too many lately," she responded ruefully. "But I hope to be able to sleep well tonight."

"You and me both, sister." He said this with a chuckle. Colton had pegged her with the 'sister' moniker after the incident on the roof, saying that his saving her life meant that he was now part of her pack, and vice versa. It was a quiet running joke that they usually used to ease a tense moment. Even though she gave him a small smile, she knew the humor didn't reach her eyes, and she was still jittery from nerves. He stopped her just as she reached the building's outer doors, grabbing her hand and squeezing for a brief moment. They walked in together, partners, shoulder-to-shoulder, a wall of solidarity.

The courtroom was once again filled to capacity. Jenessa was already at her place at the front of the room, but Joe met them as they stepped into the room. Lacey searched his face, knowing that he would have no more idea as to the jury's verdict than anyone else in the room. She was trying to gauge by his expression what he thought the outcome might be, but he was an experienced lawyer and his face revealed nothing. Remind me to never play poker with him! The random thought flitted through her mind. He shook both their hands and opened his mouth to speak, but obviously thought better of it.

They took their accustomed seat right behind the railing, while Joe settled himself next to Jenessa. Blyge was brought in by his usual attendants, and the room got quiet. The next thing Lacey knew, the bailiff was bringing in the jury; then, he announced, "All rise!" Judge Garfield walked in, looking regal and somber in his judge's robes. The shuffle of feet on the floor followed as everyone sat down.

"Madam Foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?" The judge looked directly at one of the jurors, a Vampire of indeterminate years.

"We have, Your Honor," she replied, handing a creased sheet of paper to the bailiff, who carried it dutifully to the judge. It was a credit to his years as a prosecutor and a judge that the man's face betrayed no hint of emotion as he read the verdict. Then, folding it neatly once more, he nodded to the bailiff.

"The defendant shall rise!" Blyge's group of attorneys was quick to jump to their feet, but the man himself glared at the judge, prompting the bailiff to take a few menacing steps in his direction. The Skinwalker seemed to think better of tangling with the court officer, and slowly got to his feet. But the sneer remained, even with the judge gestured to the jury.

The female Vampire had remained standing, being perfectly still as only Vampires could, and she was ready at the judge's signal. She faced Blyge squarely, and with no inflection in her voice, read off the verdict. "We the jury, find the defendant Jason Blyge, A.K.A. Blaze Sherman, guilty of all charges."

The courtroom erupted with cheers. Judge Garfield was forced to slam his gavel down on the bench several times to bring the room to some semblance of order. When it finally quieted enough for his voice to be heard, he declared, "Jason Blyge, also known as Blaze Sherman, you've been convicted guilty by a jury of your peers. You are being remanded back to city jail until the 17th of next month, when your sentence will be established. Court is adjourned." And once more, he slammed his gavel down on the bench with the loud crack of a slamming door.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

Lacey was more than happy to be buying the first round of drinks for her team of one, which had inexplicably turned to a party of three with Joe joining them. They met up at the Crimson Goblet after leaving the courthouse following the jury's guilty verdict.

"So, Joe," Lacey began after they'd clinked their beer bottles together in a victory toast. "This has to be one of the biggest cases you've ever worked?"

He took a generous swig of his dark lager. "Biggest ever worked, and won!" He proclaimed it with a huge grin.

"Well yeah, but technically you didn't win it," Colton pointed out with a crooked sneer. "Your boss did!"

"Spoil sport." Joe's voice was only half serious.

"You get used to him." Lacey poked her partner in the ribs.

"Anyway, nice job, both of you." Joe saluted them with his bottle.

"All in a day's work," Lacey responded. Colton just grunted.

"Hey, tell me about this new case you're on. Sounds like something really odd is going on around here."

"I'm really not sure yet." Lacey was pensive as she considered their newest case. "People are sure off their rocker, that's for sure."

"I can tell you that road rage cases have gone up something like two hundred percent," Colton spoke up.

"It's as if all manners, all decorum of civilization has been stripped away. If I didn't know any better, I'd say somebody was spreading around the Zombie fungus."

"I've noticed the same thing!" Joe agreed, thumping his beer on the table. "People acting just so...spaced out. Think it's a new drug?"

"I don't know." Lacey spoke with conviction. "But I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

# Immortal Species

Immortal Species List

Fang and Claw

A brief explanation of species introduced in this book.

Zombie--certain humans carry the zombie gene, and can pass it on to their offspring, often not knowing they have it. The gene only activates if a human carrying the gene dies before their natural time (from an accident, a crime, etc.). Once the gene is active, it causes a normal skin fungus to run rampant in their bodies. Then, they will turn after being buried and force their way from their coffins. Humans carrying the gene who die of natural causes will not rise again.

Shifter--They can turn into an animal at will. Each shifter has only one animal he/she can become. Often, their animal has an influence on their personality and chosen career. They are similar to Wolves but have far fewer anger issues. Their usual appearance is quite indistinguishable from human.

Reaper--This species originated with survivors of the Black Plague, and now each potential Reaper is born with a distinctive hourglass-shaped birthmark somewhere on their bodies. Reapers are especially long-lived (though not completely Immortal), and a Reaper will choose their replacement when their own time is near. They are often thin and gaunt with pale skin and can be found in medical professions. They get their energy/nourishment from "harvesting" souls and releasing them into the afterlife.

Skinwalker--A Skinwalker can take on the physical appearance of anyone it has come into contact with (called "copying"), and when it does, it sheds its old skin like a snake, leaving behind bits of skin and clear goo. It does have a base appearance it is born with, a mixture of its two parents. Usually bearded, if male, and typically have longer, darker body hair than humans.

# Coming Soon!

Turn the page for a sneak peek at Souls of the Reaper, book two in the Undead Unit Series!!

# Prologue

He gazed past the reflection of himself in the dark, full-length window, watching the city lights below flickering through the drops of rain rolling down the smooth glass. Though it was winter, the temperature rarely dropped to freezing, and when it did, it never stayed there for long. As a result, most of their precipitation fell as rain instead of snow, except for the occasional ice storm that passed through every decade or so and left behind a city glittering under its crystals. Classical symphony music played softly as he bobbed his head in time with the beat.

A quiet, feminine moan drew his attention from the window, and he turned to look at the woman on the bed. Her wrists were tied securely to the bedposts, and her head rolled restlessly on the soft pillow, perhaps reacting to some dream or hallucination brought on by the drug he had slipped into the wine earlier. After a moment, she stilled again, her voluptuous body relaxing under the thin sheet. He clasped his hands together in anticipation. This was going to be fun.

He went to the small table next to the bed and reached into the antique black bag. It had belonged to a doctor over two hundred years ago, and was an affectation that amused him. The case also allowed him to carry his supplies, keeping them in easy reach, and so it served a practical purpose as well. He was, after all, a practical sort of man. He withdrew a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. He drew an old watch from his pocket, glanced at its white face, and smiled. She was almost ready. He tucked the watch back into his pocket, causing the thin gold chain hanging from a belt loop to dance and catch the muted light.

The drug he had given the woman had easily rendered her unconscious, and he had carried her to the bedroom to make his preparations. But what he needed was to catch her at that brief moment just before she returned to awareness. Then he would give her the Valium that would erase her short-term memory of him, and do what he was there to do. When the woman woke, she might have a massive headache, but she would have no idea of what had transpired.

He measured the exact amount of sedative for her body weight. It had taken him a long time to perfect his routine, to determine the correct dosage of each drug so that he could do what he did as efficiently and quietly as possible. He had carefully tested this technique on various homeless people in the heart of the city, and, over time, as medical science had improved, so had the efficacy of the drugs. He was ready. Nothing would stop him from carrying out his plan. He turned to his victim and expertly inserted the needle into a vein on her outstretched arm.

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Marguerite Madden, called Markie by friends and family, was born August 19, 1975, in Midland, Texas. She grew up in the small town of Flushing, Michigan. While in high school, she took creative writing and was a photographer for the school newspaper. In 1993, she won the National Quill and Scroll Society award for best photo in a high school paper. She began writing her first novel, Once Upon a Western Way, while still attending school.

Markie is now married with two teenage daughters, three rescue dogs, and her horse, Athena, who is featured on the cover of her horse care guide, Keeping a Backyard Horse. She tried many times over the years to publish her novel, first on her own, and then hiring a literary agent, all without success. In early 2012, after getting her first smart phone and e-reader application, Nook, she discovered the world of self-publishing through a website called Smashwords. She finally published Once Upon a Western Way through this distributor in April, 2012.

In the late spring of 2013, Markie came down with a mysterious illness, which was ultimately diagnosed as leukemia (AML specifically). She underwent a rigorous treatment of chemotherapy, during which, at one point, her life was endangered. While she was hospitalized, an old high school friend who is also a published author reconnected with her. Since cancer and the treatment of cancer forced her out of the traditional workforce, Markie turned her attention back to the world of writing.

By December of 2014, Markie was the successful publisher of three books, her first published work, Once Upon a Western Way, now available in print as well as e-format, as well as a self-help guide to horse care, Keeping a Backyard Horse, available in print and e-format, and her cancer memoir, My Butterfly Cancer, available in print, e-format, and audiobook. Her other two will soon be available in audiobook format as well. Markie has founded Metamorph Publishing, in order to publish her own books, and she is now working with two other independent authors as well.

Currently, Markie lives in the small town of Fisk, Missouri, with her family, her dogs, and her horse. She is still writing and is working on a crime/paranormal series called The Undead Unit Series. Book one of the series, Fang and Claw, is expected to be available October 4, 2015. The second book of the series, Souls of the Reaper, is expected out in 2016, along with a thriller novel entitled Cured Delusions. You can find her at her website: https://metamorphpublishing.com.
Finding Markie's Books  
Places online where you can find Markie Madden or her publishing company, Metamorph Publishing.

Official Website: https://metamorphpublishing.com

The Undead Unit Series Home Page:  https://metamorphpublishing.com/the-undead-unit-series/

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Zazzle Store: http://www.zazzle.com/metamorphpublishing*

Official Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/booksbymarkie

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Twitter @naddya81975

PRLog: http://biz.prlog.org/metamorphpublishing/

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Storify: https://storify.com/81919752014

Authorgraph: https://www.authorgraph.com/authors/naddya81975

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

## Where to find all of Markie's books:

Smashwords

My Butterfly Cancer

Keeping a Backyard Horse

Once Upon a Western Way

Fang and Claw

For other retailers or formats visit Metamorph Publishing.

