Page 27

Maybe it was extra hungry? Maybe it was just an asshole.

I’d never seen such damage done by a wolf before, especially not on a waning moon, when they had more control over themselves. Full moons were when the true beast took over, and things got messy.

With a quick look at the rest of the body, I noticed two clean slices in the Achilles heel. So he couldn’t run.

Odd. Humanly cruel. Calculating. Again, if it weren’t for the five claw marks—customary of werewolves—and the state of the body, I would’ve thought it was something more sentient, something that fed off cruelty like a Malachi demon. But my instincts were certain this was a werewolf. Certain that this was the one I’d been hunting.

But I couldn’t get ahead of myself. Couldn’t let my vengeance get in the way of my investigation. Information was power at this juncture. I needed to learn the beast. Its methodology, its habits.

I moved on to the woman, who had much the same injuries, same damaged heart, mess of a chest cavity. Her tendons weren’t severed, just a small mark on the outside of her ankle that must’ve been a tattoo of some kind. It looked almost like a rune, or a mark from a witch. Three vertical lines with a swirl overlaying it. A tattoo, most likely. But I recognized it as a working symbol.

It was likely the victim had found something actually real and powerful on the internet and unknowingly had it inked on her because it looked cute. I’d had more than a few cases with similar stories where civilians were unwittingly called to a demon or creature. Though I doubted the mark on its own would do much.

Still, my gut told me to note it, so I snapped a quick picture on my phone to send to my witch acquaintance. Even though a witch’s opinion always came with a cost—not always one paid in cash.

Witches were mercenaries; they’d give you powers, spells—whatever you wanted, good or bad, as long as you paid.

I didn’t blame them much. A girl had to eat.

Knowing I was definitely playing with fire by staying this long, I quickly covered the female victim with the sheet then walked out the door. There was a spring in my step as I felt renewed purpose, a bloodlust for the fight I’d been training for for over a decade.

A fight I would win.

The door to Shay’s office opened just as I closed the door to the morgue.

Fuck.

Too late to outright lie, too early to fight. I should’ve been long gone; an innocent woman would not be poking around in morgues in her spare time.

I was up shit’s creek without a paddle. Thankfully, I’d been there more than a few times and knew how to wade my way out. Though it was a little harder with someone I had history with.

I sighed, knowing I had to act quick. “I heard about the animal attack while I was getting our coffees,” I lied. “And I couldn’t help but…” I trailed off, not forcing a hitch in my breath, Shay wouldn’t buy me being weak enough for that. I didn’t lower my gaze, maintaining eye contact. “I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It felt like fate or something. The day after I come back, this happens. I wanted to see … I don’t know what I wanted to see.”

Shay folded her arms, tilting her head to contemplate me. Her expression was initially cold, suspecting. I prepared myself for things to take a turn, to make a rival out of a friend. I’d done it plenty of times before. I had more enemies than I had friends. Liked it better that way. With Shay, it’d make my life more difficult. But then her eyes softened.

She stepped forward. “Take it from someone well acquainted with the dead, Hadley, you’ll never like the answers you get from them.”

She smiled sadly at me, and I did my best to smile sadly back. Like I was just a haunted, damaged woman, clueless and helpless.

“Yeah, I guess.” I lifted a shoulder. “And it’s a little too gory for me.” I winced. “I thought I had a strong stomach, but…”

“This was a particularly bad attack,” she agreed. “I hope they catch the animal.” She gave me a pointed look. “This time.” For the second time today, I got the not-so-subtle look of concern and worry about my sanity.

“Oh, I have a feeling someone will.” I gave her a wink. “Drinks. Soon. I bet you’re busy.” I moved away from the door, gave her a wave, then left. The abrupt exit didn’t do much for my innocence, but I could only play along for so long.

That and I was chomping at the bit to get on the hunt.

I casually saluted the receptionist on the way out. She ignored me.

The cool air was a welcome respite from the clammy interior of the building. I walked with a purpose toward my waiting car, even though I didn’t know exactly where I was going. I knew what I was doing— hunting a werewolf. The one that killed my parents.

I got in the car, blasting my well-worn Bad Omens CD as I screeched away from the curb.

A slithering sensation crept up my neck as I hit the gas, my honed instincts warning me of something. I just didn’t quite know what. Which told me I was going in the right direction.

seven

I couldn’t sleep.