It was early in clubbing standards when we dropped into Crimson Mist, warrant in hand. Nate wasn't there, but the manager of the nightclub, Xavier Elizondo, was. Xavier sported an impressive head of hair, long and multicolored, that passed his shoulders in a shaggy cut that seemed to have a life of its own. He was dressed in skin-tight leather pants and a leather vest, undone, revealing a hair-free chest and nipple ring. That wasn't his only piercing. He had a bar through his eyebrow, a nose ring, and two lip piercings.

"Nate told me you'd probably be dropping by." Xavier had a voice as smooth as honey, and I bet he used it to win the ladies, and maybe the men too, judging by the way he was eyeing Carter up and down.

"Did he, now?" I drew his attention back to me. "Then you won't mind at all if we have a look around."

"By all means!" Xavier extended his arms in an exaggerated gesture.

"We'll start with your office. Or Mr. Wilder’s, if he has one here."

"Mr. Wilder? So formal." Xavier snickered. "He doesn't spend much time here, so we share an office. This way."

We followed Xavier through a doorway and into a corridor. I heard Carter's sharp intake of breath and knew he was picking up on smells I'd never be able to detect. Ignoring him, I hurried down the spiral staircase to the floor below. Xavier led us down a long hallway, the crimson carpet silencing our footsteps. The walls had been papered with a black and silver design, and dim wall sconces cast just enough light to see by. We passed a dozen closed doors before reaching the double doors at the end.

"What's in all these rooms?" I asked.

"Feeding rooms. Take a look." Xavier opened the door closest to us. The room was small, decorated with the same carpet and wall coverings as the hallway. Inside was a black sofa, at the end of that a small cupboard.

"What's in the cupboard?"

"Towels. Tissues. Cleaning items." Xavier shrugged.

Carter had backed away from the open door, and by the look of disgust on his face, I'm guessing he was getting a nose full of stale scents.

Xavier closed the door and led us into his office, leaving the doors open behind him. His and Nate's office did not disappoint. The room was huge, plush crimson carpet beneath our feet, black leather armchairs and sofa in the center of the room, a massive black desk with a huge red swivel chair behind it. An identical setup occupied the other side of the room, almost a mirror image if not for the different items on the desk and in the bookshelves behind each desk.

"My desk." Xavier pointed to the left. "And Nate's." Indicating the right. At the far end of the office was a row of black filing cabinets, all identical.

"Thank you." Carter stepped forward, arm outstretched to indicate the sofa in the middle of the room. "Please take a seat while we begin. Black, you take Mr. Elizondo's desk and I'll do Wilder’s."

He'd called me Black. Carter only did that when he was annoyed. I watched his rigid back for a minute before sighing and getting to work. We were literally minutes into the search when Carter pulled out a pink mobile phone from the top drawer of Nate's desk.

"Care to explain this?" he asked Xavier, brows raised. "I find it hard to believe that a man such as Nate Wilder has a pink cell phone."

"That's not Nate's." Xavier shrugged.

"Whose is it then?"

"No idea."

"Someone leave it at the club perhaps?"

"Lost and found is kept at the bar, not here."

Carter pressed a few buttons on the phone and then swore under his breath. "Holy Shit. Check this out."

I hurried over to his side and he held the phone out to me. He'd pulled up a picture of our fourth victim, smiling into the camera with the packed dance floor of the club behind her. She'd snapped a selfie while she was here.

"It's Allena Niles’s phone," Carter said.

"What's it doing here?"

"Perhaps he forgot to get rid of it."

"This seems too easy,” I said. “If Nate's behind this, he wouldn't leave a victim's phone in such an easy to find place. He'd be smart enough to get rid of it, or if he did need it for something, he'd hide it away in a secure spot, not chuck it in the top drawer of his desk."

"The chic's right," Xavier chimed in. "Nate's had military training, he's no fool. That's been planted."

"I tend to agree." I nodded.

"Sure you have an unbiased view?" Carter's gaze was cold and hard. I hated it when he was angry with me.

"It isn't what you think, Alex."

"You're calling me Alex. This can't be good. So you slept with him."

"No. I didn't."

"Something happened."

"Nothing happened. He's an attractive man and was nice to me. Not that I have to answer to you. Bag the phone and let's keep searching." I didn’t know what tipped Carter off. I could only assume he'd picked up the mixture of my scent and Nate's. If Nate had visited the club after my visit to his home, my scent would have been all over him.

Carter held my gaze for a moment longer before nodding and turning away. Our search continued for several hours and the club was jumping by the time we finished, but we'd failed to turn up anything else.

"About the other night." Carter waited until we were in the SUV and heading back to HQ.

"No." I really didn't want to talk about it.

"I know we've always had this unspoken 'thing' and that we'd agreed we wouldn't cross that line, which makes what happened a bit more...strange."

"What do you mean?" I frowned. What was he getting at?

"It felt out of control, didn't it?" he asked. I nodded. Yes, it had felt totally out of control. And out of the blue. And I was too scared to think about it in case I wanted it again.

"So during the search at the nightclub, I discovered something."

"Oh?"

"They pump pheromones into the club."

"They what?"

"Found canisters in the basement with tubes hooking up to the air-conditioning system."

"So we were...under the influence?"

"They heighten what's already there. It's not like they're mind altering drugs, but it does explain why we wanted to inexplicably jump each other's bones."

"Oh." I didn't know what to say. At the time I'd been prepared to strip him naked and ride him like a cowgirl, consequences be damned. But later, when reality kicked in, or more likely when the pheromones wore off, I'd been full of regret, cursing myself for almost ruining our friendship.

"It's okay, Raven. We're good." He reached out and patted my thigh, his palm burning hot through the fabric of my pants. Yeah, right.

* * *

As soon as we were back at HQ, Carter logged the phone into evidence, turning it over to the IT guys and forensics to do their thing. I'd barely settled into my seat when my comms unit buzzed. It was the director.

"Black."

"I've just issued the order to have Wilder brought in for questioning. See that it's done."

"Not a problem." But she'd disconnected the call. I opened my mouth to tell Carter we had to head out again when the order popped up on our holo screens.

"Geez, that was quick," Carter muttered, pushing to his feet.

"A record," I agreed. "That was the director on my comms unit, issuing the order. She's all over this one."

"Maybe she's getting fallout from the Council?"

"Could be. She's blaming them for the sudden interest in determining what I am."

"Seriously? Why would the Council care? As long as you're doing your job and getting results?"

"Well, if they classify me as human I'll be fired. I wonder if the Police would take me if I'm sacked from the SIA? The irony, sacked from the SIA because I'm not paranormal, unable to work for the Police because they consider I am paranormal."

"It won't come to that. The director is in your corner on this one. That's why she's pushing hard to get you classified."

I was silent. I wasn’t sure I believed the Council was interested in my classification at all. I had a suspicion the director was using them as a shield, hiding behind their power to order the testing, but I had no proof, just a hunch, and until I had something to back me up I was keeping it to myself.

"You think Wilder is involved?" Carter asked on the way out to the Garden District.

"Actually, no, I don't. The guy’s former military. He's smart. If for some reason he wanted to kidnap humans, well, for starters he wouldn't take them from his own club. Second, he'd find a way to make sure their bodies were never found. And last, he wouldn't keep items belonging to his victims. And especially at the club. It's all too clumsy."

"Agreed. I wonder why the director was so quick to issue the order?"

"Protocol. Doesn't matter what we think, protocol dictates he be brought in for formal questioning. Plus none of the evidence with the first three victims ties him to them, just the last one. Allena. Her body found in his warehouse. His club stamp on her hand. Her phone in his desk."

"The other victims did have his stamp though," Carter pointed out.

"Possibly. The stamp wasn't clearly identifiable as Crimson Mist on the other victims. All we know is that the same ink was used. And it wasn't until we started digging and found the footage that we linked them together."

"Almost like someone was using Allena's death as breadcrumbs. To lead us to Wilder."

"Seems that way. I think we need to be looking into Wilder's enemies. Who would benefit if he was put away for this? One of his own staff or friends? Or someone outside the circle? And that still doesn't answer our question of what's happening to these people, why are they mutating?"

We pulled up outside Nate's house. I let Carter take the lead, standing back when he pounded on the front door. The same young woman who'd greeted me earlier opened the door, recognizing me with a smile.

"Agent." She nodded her head at me, then turned her attention to Carter. "Yes? How can I help you?"

"We need to talk to Nate Wilder. Official SIA business." Carter tapped his fingers on the red badge on his belt.

"I'm sorry, Agent, Mr. Wilder is not in residence."

"Not in residence? What does that even mean?" Carter asked.

"He's not at home. Have you tried his club, Crimson Mist?"

"We were at his club a couple of hours ago. He wasn't there. When did he leave here?"

"He has been out all evening."

"And you don't know where he went?"

"I'm his employee, Agent. He doesn't report his business to me."

"Could you take a guess as to where he might be?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know." With that, she very gently closed the door in our faces.

"We could search the place," Carter muttered, turning to face me.

"I don't think he's here. We'd just be wasting our time. Let's check the club again. Maybe he turned up after we left."

He wasn't at the club. We tried a few other venues we thought a millionaire vampire might frequent, but we were out of luck. It appeared Nate Wilder had gone to ground. The director wouldn't be happy.