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“Do you not remember anything?” he prodded.
Another shake of her head.
Even though recent events had proven his Sight not so reliable as he’d once believed, Darien blinked it into place and read her aura. There was no sign that she was being dishonest; even her body language told him she was telling the truth.
Darien inclined his head toward the street. “You’re free to go. Make sure you fly, don’t get in any cabs or buses.”
She scampered away with her head down, arms crossed tight. She didn’t look back.
The werewolf who stormed around the corner just then, shoulder-length dark hair blowing back in a breeze, made to go after her—
“Logan!” Darien barked.
He stopped mid-step. Whirled to face the alley. His chest heaved with anger as he took in the Devils and Reapers standing in a group.
Coming up behind Logan was Sebastian, the alpha’s Second. Seb’s wolf name was Cryo, and he was a member of the Guardian pack. A guy in his late twenties, his physique just as brawny as Logan’s. Despite his young age, his shoulder-length hair was a deep silver, a trait some werewolves were born with.
They started heading this way. “What did you do?” Logan demanded, hands balling into fists at his sides.
“Relax, Logan.” Darien stepped in his path. “Relax. She doesn’t know anything.”
His nostrils flared. “You have no right to let a Torch vamp walk off my property when she shouldn’t have even been here to begin with.”
“You know who she is?” Sylvan asked.
“Her name’s Desiree Denaldi. One of the twins set to inherit the Silver Torch.” He pointed a finger at Darien. “And you had no right, Cassel.” That arm was trembling.
Lace tried to get between them. “Darien, step back.”
Darien held up a hand. “It’s fine.” To Logan he said, “Cool it. She was brought here against her will. She had bruises all over her. The condition of her wrists told me she had been tied up.”
“By who? Did she say?”
“She didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You want to hear my theory?”
Both Logan and Sebastian faced him with reluctance, the former’s arms still trembling with an impending shift.
“My theory is that the vampires are the ones who’ve been dumping dead bodies on your,” he jabbed him in the chest, “land.”
Logan thought it through, breaths puffing out through flared nostrils. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Is it? Think, Logan. The only dead people showing up in your territory are vampires, and they all look like they’ve been mauled to death by a werewolf.” The autopsies had confirmed it. “Why not a knife wound? A bullet wound? Why not one of those? Why claws?”
Sebastian said, “What do they want? What would be the point?”
“That, I don’t know,” Darien replied. He started down the alley, Lace, Jack, and Tanner following behind him. A wind swept through the neighborhood. He was struck with the humid waft of wet garbage and fish guts. “But I’m out for the night, I’m beat.” It was only the afternoon, but he was exhausted. He gestured to the club. “And for the gods’ sakes, order a health inspection on this place, will you?”
“It’s not my club,” Logan said tightly.
“No, but it is on your land. The place is a pigsty, and I don’t feel like dealing with any new mutations.” Demon mutations were a pain in the ass, and grubby places like the kitchen of Silver Claw usually had a hand in creating them.
But unlike the new demons he’d encountered lately, mutations were easy to spot. For one, they had auras. Two, their features were always a cross between two already-existing species that were a cinch to pinpoint.
When he reached the end of the alley, the others walking on either side of him, he turned to face Logan. The wolf was deep in thought, staring off into the distance with fire-painted eyes.
