“As far as you know, did any of the coven witches have any problems with Sophie or Delilah? Grudges, arguments, anything like that?”
“Like she said, it wasn’t her scene.” Ronan finally took a seat. “Come on, Alvarez. It’s been two days. You must have a better theory than coven infighting by now.”
He was right—I did.
I hadn’t planned to share the prelims on the labs yet, but Gray was digging in too deep. She’d already questioned the witches on her own, and I’d be a fool to think she wasn’t following up on other leads, putting herself in further danger. I needed her to trust me on this, to back off and let me do the work. And the only way she’d trust me was if I kept her in the loop.
More than that, I wanted to ease her pain. If giving her a few details about the case could help her sleep at night, I was in.
She looked at me now, a spark of hope shining through the sadness in her eyes.
Oh, Gray…
I’d been a cop in this city for decades, and I’d seen a lot of horrific shit. But this was quickly becoming the hardest, most personal, most important case I’d ever worked on, and no matter what the outcome, I sensed that it would bind me to Gray for the rest of our lives.
In some ways, it already had.
And maybe this time she’ll actually remember it…
“What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room.” I flipped open my case file and scanned the report inside. “All three cases are almost identical. No signs of struggle, forced entry, or sexual assault. All three victims were killed at home in their beds. All missing sections of hair approximately two inches in length. And all showing puncture marks and bruising in the crook of both arms typical after blood draws.”
Gray wrinkled her nose. “The killer took blood samples?"
“Seems like it. We also found…” I flipped past the reports to the photos beneath, but seeing those images again made me change my mind. I didn’t need to add to Gray’s nightmares by showing her photos of runes carved into her best friend’s torso. I was already digging through my lore books for a match, and I’d reached out to a demon friend who taught ancient languages at U of Seattle.
I slammed the folder closed, pressing my hand flat against it as if that alone could keep the gruesome truth inside.
“What actually killed my best friend?" Gray’s voice cracked on the last word, but she held her chin high, determined to get answers.
“Officially? Blood poisoning,” I said. “All three cases."
“And unofficially?" Ronan asked. Despite his controlled, pillar-of-strength demeanor, I sensed he was getting antsy—not a good look on the demon.
“All five women were injected with vampire blood,” I said. “I scented it in Sophie’s bedroom, and the tests confirmed it. I’m still working on identifying the particulars, but that seems to be the cause of death.” I looked up at the ceiling, wishing there was an easier way to say this. Wishing I didn’t have to say it at all. “It seems our killer wanted to turn the witches into vampires. None of them survived the change.”
Gray gasped, the sound of it piercing my heart. “But… That makes no sense. Why would a vampireinjectblood?”
“I’m trying to work that out.” I rose from the table to pace the small room, diving into the familiar routine of police procedure, the logic and reasoning that so often kept my sensitive heart from imploding. “Scenario A: Our vamp was simply in a hurry. In a successful change, injection would theoretically work faster than ingestion.”
“No way. Doesn’t fit a vamp’s M.O.,” Ronan said.
“Agreed,” I said. Vamps were predators and bloodsuckers. They enjoyed the hunt—or pursuit, in the case of a willing victim—and were rewarded with the sensuous pleasure of the feed. We didn’t have to travel farther than Darius’s club to see that dynamic in action. “Which brings us to scenario B: The killer isn’t a vampire, but for whatever reason wanted to turn witches. Injection would be a good option."
“Assuming he had access to vampire blood,” Gray said. “But then he’d also need to inject the witch blood into the sires, right? To finish the blood swap?”
I nodded.
“If the killer had access to the sires,” she went on, “they wouldn't need to do an injection. No vampire would sit there passively when he could be feeding.”
“The killer could’ve injected the vampires off-site,” Ronan said.
“True,” I said, “but then he’d only have about fifteen minutes to do it before the effects faded. And what vampire would agree to this, anyway?”
“Hostage?” Gray offered. She seemed to be puzzling something out in her head, then said, “Maybe I should talk to Darius.”
“Gray. I need you to let me conduct this investigation on my own terms, my own timeline. I will speak with him when the time is right.”
“But he…” Her eyes widened suddenly, her skin turning ashy. “Hollis and that other vampire… What if they tried to track me to my house? It was my fault Darius booted them. What if they wanted to get back at me and… Oh my God. Sophie—”
