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“Oh my god,” Jak whispered, horror in his voice. “That can’t possibly be—”
I flung out an arm to stop him from moving into the room. The gesture was automatic. My gaze had locked on the gore and blood scattered around the room, and a sick sense of déjà vu crawled across my skin. Though this murder—and my mom’s—were similar to the MO of the Rakshasa, this wasn’t her work. She fed off her victims. Whoever was responsible for this simply tore their victims apart. Somehow I managed to say, “It can and it is. We need to call the Directorate.”
He glanced at me sharply. “Why? This is gruesome, no doubt about it, but there’s no indication it’s the work of a non-human. I mean, not even a vampire could tear someone apart this completely. Some kind of power tool must have been used.”
“It wasn’t. Trust me.” I took a deep, shuddering breath and closed my eyes. Bad mistake, because the minute I did, I saw Mum bits, Mum’s head… Bile rose and I swallowed heavily, then grabbed Jak’s hand and dragged him out of there.
“What the fuck?” he said, trying to wrench himself free. “Risa, there’s one hell of a story in there—”
“And it’s not one you’ll ever be allowed to print,” I said. I stopped in the garden and sucked in several deep breaths. It didn’t do a lot to ease the churning in my stomach, but it at least cleared the scent of blood from my lungs.
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve seen this before.”
He studied me for a moment, frowning. “Where?”
“When my mum died.” I waved a hand toward the house. “That’s precisely the way she was killed.”
“Oh, fuck,” he said, his face going white. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t,” I cut in. “No one knew outside the Directorate and me, so you have nothing to apologize for.”
“And that’s the reason you want the Directorate called in? Because they’re the ones that investigated your mom’s death?”
Azriel? Are you near? I thought, then said out loud, “Yes. Only there were no clues and, until now, the killer hadn’t resurfaced.”
Azriel appeared behind Jak and lightly touched his neck. Jak froze, his eyes going suddenly blank.
“Are you okay?” Azriel asked.
“Mostly.” I wrapped my arms around my body, and wished they were his arms, not mine. “I guess you’ve already been inside?”
“Yes. As before, there is nothing to suggest who is behind this murder.”
As before… I shivered, and again tried to ignore the images that rose.
“No scent or spiritual essence—or whatever it is that you Mijai track by—whatsoever? How in the hell is something like that even possible?”
“The lack of scent is understandable,” he said calmly. “Humans have had scent-erasing soap for many years now.”
I waved a hand in acknowledgment. “But how can the killer not leave any other trace of himself behind?”
“Anything is possible if one is extremely careful, and our killer obviously is.”
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Then what the hell is the link between my mum’s murder and this man’s?”
“That is obvious.” His voice was grim. “You are the connection.”
I blinked. “Why would I be the link when it comes to a retired photographer I didn’t even know?”
“You might not have known James Blake, but you were intending to question him about Nadler. You were also investigating Nadler and his consortium when your mother was killed. I doubt it is a coincidence.”
“But—” I paused. Pain and guilt rose like a ghost, but I pushed them back down and added, “I can understand someone killing Blake to keep him quiet, but Mom didn’t really know much about my investigation.”
“She was a very strong psychic,” he replied, his voice soft. “You do not know what she might or might not have known.”
And now never would, I thought bleakly. “Do you think they’ll go after Nadler’s ex, as well?”
