“I want to throttle her,” Dale muttered as he slid into the car.

A boisterous belly laugh burst out of Chloe. “Everyone does. That’s what makes Brenda so special.”

“I’ll say she’s special, in a needs-a-helmet kind of way. She has no sense of self-preservation.”

“No, she doesn’t. Brenda embraces every new thing she comes across without thinking of the consequences.”

“She’s going to get hurt if she doesn’t start being more careful.”

Chloe’s lips pulled down. “I know, which is why she could use a good man or two or three in her life.”

“Has she said so? Is she looking to settle down with a harem?” Despite knowing he sounded like a pussy, Dale couldn’t help but ask. Someone get the gun and shoot him now.

“Not in so many words, but let’s face facts. Brenda’s a handful, and while I know all she really wants is one person to love her, being that she’s so energetic, I think part of the reason relationships fail for her is because she overwhelms people.”

He could see that happening. Brenda was constantly go, go, go. He liked that about her and, at the same time, hated it. How did Chloe handle it? “You’ve been friends for a long time, right?”

Chloe nodded.

“She doesn’t overwhelm you.”

“Don’t kid yourself. Being with her is like being sucked into a tornado, chaos and noise all the time. But there’s a reason why we never shared a room at college or an apartment. I can’t do it twenty-four-seven.” Chloe hastened to add, “That’s not to say I don’t love her. Brenda is my best friend. I would step in front of a bullet for her. However, if we ended up in a bomb shelter alone, the last two people on earth…” Chloe shrugged. “I’d probably shoot myself.”

“Not her?”

“I told you, she’s my best friend. I’d never hurt her. I want what’s best for her.”

“And you think what’s best is a harem of guys because you don’t think I could handle her alone.”

“Maybe you could. I mean, you’d certainly try.” Chloe shrugged. “However, once you moved in, and it’s just the two of you, all day, every day, with her bouncing off the walls and talking non-stop…”

“Afraid I’ll choke her to death?” He said it with a grin.

“That would be better than breaking her heart. She’s had that happen enough in her life.”

Someone had hurt Brenda? Give him an address, he’d kick their ass. “What happened to her?”

“It’s not my place to talk about it. Let’s just say boyfriends aren’t the only people in her life who’ve left her. She deserves better than the shit hand life has dealt her. She deserves love, so if you’re not ready to fully commit, then don’t lead her on.”

Love? Was what he felt for Brenda anything close to that emotion? Lust, he had no trouble recognizing. A certain possessive need, definitely. But love?

Would a man in love contemplate sharing her with his best friend?

Would a man in love call Sebastian and ensure his friend went to the library to keep an eye on her, even knowing that long-haired Casanova would probably make a play?

Would a man in love have dreams of tag teaming her body?

If only he could figure out the answer. He certainly didn’t want to hurt Brenda. But Chloe raised some valid points. In, or out. He couldn’t hover halfway.

Dale dropped off Chloe at Pete’s, who swung her into his arms, grabbed her ass, and planted a kiss.

What a change from a few months ago. Pete, once upon a time, didn’t believe in ménage relationships, yet was now fully involved in one with a vampire he’d started out hating.

If Pete can do it, can I?

Dale, at least, didn’t hate Mike or Sebastian. But could he handle the jealousy?

Leaving the smooching pair—and feeling an urge to adjust his nut sac to erase the taint of their cutesy display—he headed next to a brownstone in the middle of the city. A nondescript place with a discreet sign advertising physiotherapist services by appointment only. Easing some tension in his muscles wasn’t why he entered the building, though.

The fake business served to hide a cryptozoid installation. One of the many secret offices of the TDCM. They had them scattered around the country, the world, each serving a different purpose from administration, incarceration, immigration—because some species couldn’t move into some places without causing a minor war. Underneath the layers of human bureaucracy existed another hidden layer, one to serve the non-humans.

This particular installation was dedicated to scientific research. As to his presence, Dale had come in person to hear the autopsy results on the witch.

First, though, he had to sign in.

The receptionist, a silver-haired lass with her pointed ears hidden, fixed him with an emerald gaze. “Remove your weapons and place them in the basket.”

The gun in his ankle holster hit the bottom of the white wicker basket along with his pocket knife. Some might find it ironic that a shapeshifter chose to carry physical weapons. Dale, however, knew of the dangers in the world and liked to hedge his bets. Where claws didn’t work, an iron blade or silver bullet might.

“Please sign in here.” A perfectly manicured nail tapped the raised counter.

“I know.” The fact that Dale had been in this office countless times before did not thaw her demeanor or instructions. Each time, with a serious mien, she watched as he placed his palm on the seemingly innocuous stone countertop that ran the length of the reception desk.

A bell chimed. At times, Dale wondered what would happen if it didn’t. Would the slight receptionist suddenly stand with a flamethrower and roast him? Or was this like the department of justice for the cryptos that dropped cages onto aggressive complainants seemingly out of nowhere?

“Please proceed through the door to your left.” She pointed, even knowing he didn’t need direction.

The frosted-paned portal opened with a simple push, and Dale found himself in a smaller room, bereft of furniture, the only décor some silver hooks lined across the wall with some white coats hanging from them.

More decoration than anything else. The next step involved sterilization before he even got close to the labs.

“Assume the position.” The melodic tone emerged from no visible speaker, and he had to wonder if the elf maiden even moved her lips at the front desk when she spoke.

Knowing the drill, he stood still and held his arms out from his sides.

The light in the room brightened, and his skin tingled as magic swept over him, touching him in places that should remain private. All of him, inside and out, heated then cooled. His teeth vibrated as an electrical current passed through him.

It took but a moment before the voice declared, “You are clear of enchantments and curses. Please proceed.”

What would happen if, just once, he did have some kind of magic miasma clinging to him?

Then again, given how seriously the TDCM took themselves, he probably didn’t want to know.

The next door out of the room opened onto a long corridor. A series of closed doors with plaques to identify them marched down the hall.

Having been here before, Dale knew he wanted the last door, the one reserved for autopsies.

In a stroke of luck, Pete and his pack had managed to keep the latest witch death off the human radar. In other words, the cops didn’t know, so the TDCM had swept in and taken over the crime scene, removing the body and all evidence of the murder.

Should the humans come looking, they’d find nothing but a clean and abandoned house. Just another person who’d suddenly decided to pull up roots and leave.

It happened all the time. Especially with their kind. Having most of the cryptozoids come out to the general public didn’t mean they wanted the humans involved in their business.

The truth the humans knew only scratched the surface of the crypto reality. And it was best to keep it that way. The Salem Witch trials and the Inquisition and other great sweeps against magic remained as reminders of what happened when magic and those considered non-human got too complacent with their lives. Lycans got hunted to the point that their numbers were severely culled for years. The mermaids found themselves struggling as fishermen took over the seas. And the Sasquatch kept running from the damned paparazzi.

Dale knocked lightly on the door and waited to hear a reply before entering. Disturbing a wizard at work should be done with great caution.

He slipped in and shut the portal softly behind him. He then took stock of the situation.

A single bright light shone from a suspended ball, hovering with no visible wires in the middle of the room. It illuminated the body laid out on a modern-day gurney, wheeled cots being much easier to move around than the old-school stone altars the wizards used to prefer.

The room itself didn’t have much in the way of modern medical equipment. No machines with beeping or flashing lights. Not even a fridge to store samples.

A counter ran along two of the walls and held an array of stands filled with glass vials and beakers. He also spotted a few small propane Bunsen burners; they had replaced the previous use of burning coal, which left a smoky residue on everything.

As for smell, nothing antiseptic permeated the air, nor did he scent death but rather a pleasant aroma of flowers, probably on account of the woman performing the autopsy being an elf. They tended to be finicky about their environments.

Dressed in a practical scrub suit, the elven lady leaned over the body on the table, hands hovering, not touching it.

Another woman, a human witch he’d met before, stood with pursed lips, watching.

“Elder Kell’en. Willow.” Dale greeted them each in turn.

The elf didn’t acknowledge him, but Willow’s gaze met his, and she offered a faint smile. “Dale. I’m glad you’re here. We started a few minutes early, but you haven’t missed much.”

“Sorry I’m late.” The smooth tones of the vampire would have startled Dale if he’d not heard the door open. As it was, he didn’t like knowing the bloodsucker stood behind him. Despite their kind having been under truce for centuries now, all Lycans had an innate distrust of vampires, which made him wonder even more how Pete did it.

Stepping aside, Dale made room for Anthony, the male Pete now shared a home with. A tall fellow, with classic features and blond hair. If not for his pallor, you’d never suspect what lurked within. Nor the fact that the vampire was centuries old yet appeared as if he were still in his late twenties.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s begin.”

The elder, a wizard by training, an elf by birth, still hadn’t chosen to look any of them in the eye. Damned elves were such snobs, and those who chose to follow the magical arts were the worst. But they sure knew how to throw a great hunt in the Summerlands.

Except the Summerlands were restricted now, most of the elves having withdrawn from the human world to their alternate space. A few chose to remain behind, mostly to act as ambassadors and eyes for the hidden elven court.

The audience remained quiet as the wizard—who did not answer to “sorceress,” claiming it was sexist—began to speak.

“Victim is a male, thirty-seven Earth planetary rotations old, human in origin with trace amounts of elf in his lineage.” All witches had something non-human in their blood, it was the reason they could do magic. “His body carries several charms. Basic ones,” said with the slightest sneer. “One for his appearance meant to attract females, another to draw good luck, which seems to have failed, and one to warn him of danger. Again, not a very well-constructed charm.”

“Gary was new to the coven and still learning how to use his powers,” Willow commented.

“Perhaps Gary should have stuck to more mundane occupations. He’d probably be alive if he had.”

As Willow’s lips flattened, Dale felt a need to interject. “But if he had the capacity to do magic, then wouldn’t a demon still be attracted?”

Bright sapphire eyes took a moment to peruse him. Thin lips pursed. “Much like the Lycan species, a demon finds its prey by scent. Had this human not chosen to indulge in things he only had a small knack for, he wouldn’t have caused his magical scent to spike, thus not attracting the attention of whatever did this.”

“Why do you say whatever?” Anthony, the lawyer, grabbed on to the word. “Isn’t this a demon attack?”

“I’m not sure.” Just saying the words caused Elder Kell’en to look as if she sucked a pile of lemons instead of just one.

“How can you not be sure? The evidence is very similar to the previous attacks.”

“Similar, but not the same.” The elder pointed. “While there are flesh and blood gone from the victim, the dentition is markedly different from the previous demon attacks.”

“They’re smaller.”

“Smaller and improperly shaped. Let me show you.” She waved her hand over a wound, and a ghostly image of it rose in the air. Waving her fingers around, manipulating the hovering picture, much like a person would use a mouse to work on a computer, she reverse engineered the bite to show the teeth that had left it.

Teeth that appeared—

“Those look awfully human,” Willow noted.

Actually, they looked like a cross between human and Lycan, except his kind had pointed canines only. The hovering mold had pointed canines and a few jagged molars.

“What made those marks?” Anthony asked aloud.

“I don’t know,” grumbled Elder Kell’en. “I’ll have to send some images to the Archivist.” A sort of historian for all the crypto lore. “What I do know is whatever attacked this male wasn’t alone.” Waving her hand some more, she drew up some more bite marks, manipulating them to show the teeth that had left them.

Three different sets.

“Have we received the DNA analysis?” Despite all the magic they could access, science still played an important part in some things, like proper identification.

“The genetic marker test has not yet returned. There was a delay due to some cross contamination.”

“What kind of contamination?” Anthony asked.

“Human.” Said with a sneer. “We’ve scrubbed the labs and should have new results by tomorrow.”

“What if it’s not a mistake? Could someone human have done this?” Willow might have been the only one to say it, but Dale certainly wondered it.

“You better hope not,” the elder said.

No kidding, because if there was something infecting humankind that caused them to attack magic users, then the whole world was in trouble. The elves, and their magical allies, would declare war to save themselves.