Chapter Sixteen

Jasper

“Jackson and Neesa sent us a present,” Luca says.

I look skeptically at the box sitting in the middle of my kitchen table. Jackson and Neesa have developed quite the reputation for pranks in their time away. After Luca managed to grant them the powers of Pla’qitay, allowing them to roam free all over the world, they both seem a lot happier. And as a result, they enjoy sending us things – or just bringing them in person – that would make the more squeamish among us scream in absolute horror.

That's Jackson and Neesa, running free, enjoying life, killing interesting creatures.

I look at the box again, imagining any sort of horrors inside. I wouldn't have put it past them to rig it so whatever's in there, comes popping out at us. That's just how morbid they've started to become.

“So, why don't you go ahead and open it,” I say.

Luca looks at me, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I saved it for you.”

“You're the Clan Chief,” I say. “you should do the honors.”

“Not the Clan Chief yet,” Luca says.

“Maybe not in name, but it's a formality.”

“Then fine,” Luca says. “As the soon to be Clan Chief, I delegate the honor of opening that box to you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Winter says, letting out an exasperated sigh. “You two are worse than a couple of scared little girls.”

And with that, she steps up to the table and produces a long, curved dagger from somewhere on her body and starts to cut the tape off the box. Luca and I step back, waiting for something to come springing, jumping, or flying out of the box.

But, Winter gets the lid off of it without incident. Luca and I look at each other and share a nervous little laugh before stepping toward the table again. Winter reaches into the box and comes out with the most grotesque holiday gift imaginable.

“Is that what I think it is?” I ask.

Luca nods. “Yeah, pretty sure it is.”

Winter holds it up, turning it around and examines it from every angle. I can see the confusion on her face.

“What is this?” she asks.

“Other than a sick joke?” I say and smile.

She looks at me, muttering something about “scared little girls” under her breath again. I explain that she's holding the skull of one of the C'latha. The subterranean vampires we'd fought not all that long ago. But Neesa and Jackson, in all of their twisted glory, painted the skull red and green and dusted it with red and gold glitter. They even put a pair of candy cane striped earmuffs on it just to top it off.

And just to top it off, they'd attached a wire through the nose holes in the skull, just above the elongated fangs of the vampire, with a colorful tag that depicted Santa and his reindeer. The inscription read, “Seasons Eatings, love N & J.”

“Is it me? Or are those two getting more twisted and morbid the longer they're out there?” I ask.

“It's not you,” Luca replies.

Winter sets the skull back down on the table and admires it for a few moments longer. There's a small smile playing on her lips and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“I would like to meet these two,” she says. “I have a feeling I'd like them very much.”

“I guarantee you'd be like three peas in a pod,” Luca says.

I clear my throat and get back to the business at hand. “I assume they sent the skull to test the bite radius on the victims?”

Luca nods. “They did indeed,” he says. “I just didn't expect it to be so festive.”

“Dr. Floyd is pretty certain it's not a C'latha that did the killings,” I say. “He's more or less ruled them out, making your little party favor all but irrelevant.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Winter says. “I think it could be a fun decoration to have on the table at the holiday party. Maybe even a nice little tree topper?”

“Yeah, pretty sure Asher isn't going to go for that,” I say.

“Well, if it's not the C'latha making a surprise return,” Luca starts, “then what in the hell is it?”

“That's the million dollar question,” I say.

“Wonderful,” Luca says. “A week to the election and we have nothing to hang Green with yet.”

“Not yet,” I admit, feeling my own frustration.

I look over at Winter to see if she has anything to add, but she remains uncharacteristically silent. There's an odd expression on her face and I get the feeling that she has something to add to the conversation. But, judging by the fact that she's not speaking up, I get the feeling that it's a conversation she wants to have in private.

“But, we have a couple of ideas that we're working on,” I say.

“Like what?” Luca asks.

I hesitate and stutter for a moment. “Nothing we're ready to get into just yet,” I say. “Could be false leads. We need to check some things out before we say anything.”

Luca nods. “Fair enough. I have to go. Asher wants me to be at today's festivities,” he says. “But, keep me in the loop.”

“You got it, boss,” I say, snapping him a quick salute.

“And Winter?” Luca says, turning to her. “I really appreciate you helping out with this. It means a lot.”

She shrugs. “I'm not much for celebrations and ceremonies,” she says. “This is keeping me far more entertained than whatever boring, stuffy, lame thing the clan bigwigs are all doing. No offense.”

“None taken,” Luca says and grins. “It is most definitely boring, stuffy, and lame. One of the downsides of this job.”

Luca walks out, closing the door behind him and I turn to Winter. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?” she asks.

“Whatever it is that you seem to be choking on over there.”

She sighs. “You're not going to like it.”

“There's a lot of things going on I don't like,” I say. “Might as well hit me with it.”

“Emily,” she says. “There's something different about her.”

“Yeah, I told you that,” I say. “She's a really –”

“Not like that,” Winter says, idly running her hand over the festive vampire skull. “I mean that she smells different. She says she's not a shifter, but there's something about her that isn't strictly – human. You have to smell it on her as easily as I do.”

I sigh and nod slowly. “There are a few things you need to know about her.”

Winter arches an eyebrow and cocks her head, listening to me as I fill her in on Emily's ordeals. At least, as much as I know, anyway. She's never told me the full story and I've never pressed her on it. I figure that she'll tell me when she's ready.

When I finish the story, Winter is nodding as if she understands. Maybe she does, I don't know. But, I see something in her eyes that I don't like.

“You can't think Em has anything to do with this,” I say.

She shrugs. “We can't rule anything out, right?” she replies. “I seem to remember you saying something to that effect.”

“We can't rule anything out, no,” I say. “But, that's absurd. Emily may be a lot of things, but she's no killer.”

“She's not entirely human though, either,” she says.

“She's not a shifter, Winter,” I say. “You're way off base.”

“Tell me, does she have vivid dreams?” Winter asks. “Nightmares. Maybe, nightmares where she's an animal or something like that? An animal that kills people, perhaps?”

I open my mouth to refute it, but then recall that Emily has, in fact, told me about vivid nightmares she's had. She's told me about watching something running through the woods. Killing people. She's told me about how vivid and realistic they are. And as I remember her words, a cold fingertip runs its way up my spine.

It can't be. It really can't be. It's insane to even contemplate. And yet, there I am contemplating it all the same.

“When a shifter is made, not naturally born like you and I,” Winter says. “Their human mind can't quite cope with the changes all at once. To deal with it, they invent dreams. Nightmares. They watch the action from a distance, never putting themselves in it. It's a way their minds protect them until they're ready to accept the fact that they're changed. They're different now, and no longer strictly human.”

“But, I would have seen her shift, Winter.”

She shakes her head. “Not necessarily,” she says. “Human minds, until they adapt to the changes, protect them from themselves. And from others.”

“This is nuts,” I say. “I would know if she's a shifter.”

“Can you not smell the difference on her?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “I smell a difference in her. But, she is also still rehabbing from whatever the hell they did to her in that lab.”

“I'm not saying that Emily is the one doing the murders,” Winter says. “I'm not saying that at all.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I'm saying that if we truly want to solve this and prove that Green is behind it, we can't take any possibility off the table,” she says. “Not even ones that will hurt us personally.”

Intellectually, I know she's right. I know that if I want to run a clean investigation, get to the truth of it all, and find out who's doing the killing, I have to consider everything. And that means everything. Including the possibility that Emily is the killer. I get it. I don't like it, but I get it.

I feel guilty as hell for even thinking it. For even entertaining the idea. But, I have no choice. Winter is right. If I truly want to get to the truth, I can't ignore anything.

“Fine,” I say. “What do we need to do to prove she's not the killer?”