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Jessen popped up, then walked to him and tucked herself in the curve of his body, arms winding around his waist. He cooled, stroking a hand down her hair and back, the other cupping her belly, his anger sliding off like a shell.
“I’m definitely missing something,” I said.
Kol shoved off the mantel. Pacing to the plate-glass window, he faced the room, the garish light at his back casting him in shadow. “Immediately following the public release of the recent murder, the Gladium Parliament voted to close the doors of the Vaengar Stadium to all humans.”
“What!” I jumped to my feet. “That’s illegal. That’s segregation. They can’t do that.”
Kol eyed me with a curious expression. “They can do whatever is necessary for the safety of the people of Gladium. Every victim was abducted from the stadium. Every human victim.”
“But that’s going backward.” I put my hands on my hips, staring out the window into the city. “They can’t do that,” I bit out between clenched teeth, knowing I sounded redundant, but I was unable to articulate my swirling emotions of frustration and anger.
We’d come so far since the days of segregation and ignorance. Even my own father conceded that Gladium had turned the corner from a nation of two opposing populations to one of mutual peace. He hadn’t said it in those words, but we all knew it was true. Morgons and humans were intermarrying and having children. Business professionals of both races had become mutually prosperous through alliances and merging companies. Politicians were no longer split Morgon against human, but falling into a division of ideals and morals rather than one based on race. It wasn’t a perfect society, but Gladium was the first to prove that the two species could not only live amongst one another, but could cohabitate in peaceful union, could thrive and flourish.
I spun away from the city view. “This could reverse everything we’ve strived for.”
Kol crossed his arms casually. “That’s what they’re counting on. A segregated people riding on fear are easier to conquer.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The so-called Devlin Butchers appear to be much more organized, more militarized than we first thought. They aren’t mindless murderers. They’re making calculated moves, which have the appearance of mindless butchery.”
The white-haired cook, Ruth, clip-clopped to the living room entrance, wiping her hands on an apron. “Pardon me, Mrs. Nightwing, but how many will we have for dinner this evening?”
Jessen asked, “Will you be joining us, Kol?”
His eyes remained on me as he gave a curt nod. “Yes.”
“Add two more, please Ruth. What was tonight’s menu again?”
“Tarragon Steak,” she said before returning to the kitchen.
I hoped Ruth didn’t overcook the meat again, knowing how Morgons liked their meat rare. Kraven’s admission ran through my head. I suppose it is the beast in us all. We like our meat bloody.
Like lightning, a vision crashed into my mind. A broken body, a slaughtered lamb, naked and gutted, gaping slashes on every pulse-point in her body.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, jerking my comm from my coat pocket. “They’re drinking them dry.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Jessen, pausing in the kitchen entrance. She returned to my side as I flipped through the photo gallery on my comm. Lucius and Kol came closer and hovered over my shoulder. Jessen joined them as I finally found the shots of Maxine Mendale I’d saved. I zoomed into the marks on her neck and inner arms, holding my comm so they could see.
“I couldn’t figure out what these slash marks were. They’re on every part of her body where a strong vein would be accessible.”
“Accessible,” muttered Jessen. “Do you mean they’re actually?—”
I nodded. “For bleeding her. I don’t have close-up shots of the other victims, but I could see these same cuts on them when I double-checked the photos Macon had given me.”
Kol’s expression sharpened into hard lines. “The victims were nearly bloodless. All but the one found this morning.”
Lucius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But she wasn’t taken for the same purpose as the others. She was taken to send a message. They very well could’ve been using the others to harvest blood.”
“Maxine had a bite mark,” I said. “I thought it was just some random act of savagery, but now it appears the murderer really was drinking her.” I glanced from one man to the other, receiving no response. “Do Morgons really drink blood?” I persisted. A wave of nausea made me shudder.
“No,” Lucius assured me. “Sane Morgons do not. However…” He glanced at Kol who stood stoic as ever.
“However what?” I demanded.
“There are some Morgons who have a break in their psyche. They go rabid, reverting back to their primitive dragon, submitting to bloodlust. This was what we thought had happened with Maxine Mendale. But it never quite fit.”
“How so?” asked Jessen.
