We had a lead. That was more than what we had with our other victims. The first three were found dumped in various locations around town. Nothing tied them together, except for the horrific way they had died.

"So, our victim number three, Kimberley Shay, was last seen leaving her waitressing job from The Witches Brew, that restaurant in the Bell District."

I nodded. "I know it. I've been there often." The Witches Brew was in walking distance of my apartment. The Bell District was one of Redmeadows tourist haunts, full of art galleries, restaurants, and bars, a colorful district that attracted locals and visitors alike.

"What time did she leave work?"

"Ten p.m. Plenty of time to hit a nightclub after work."

"Next?" I prompted.

Carter checked the screen he'd activated from the dash, linking us to the central database, "Tara Dewitt. Twenty-two. Last seen at the school where she teaches eight-year-olds. Her car was still in the parking lot. Either she was snatched there, or someone picked her up and she left her car at work. Doesn't make sense though. If you're going out and don't want to drive, you'd take your car home first."

"Agreed. Next?"

"Brad Headley. Twenty-five-year-old accountant. He was last seen leaving the office, but his car was found in the supermarket car park.

"Video surveillance from the supermarket shows him shopping, paying for his purchases, and walking out the door. Cameras don't extend to the car park." Carter continued.

"And his groceries weren't found?"

"Nope. Footage shows him walking out with two bags. Neither he nor the bags were seen again."

"Back to Allena, our latest vic. So she was what...nineteen? Twenty? Uni student?" I tried to recall what I'd read when the case had first hit my screen.

"Nineteen. Studying medicine at Redmeadows Uni. Once we get back to the office I'll start tracking her last known movements. That stamp could be a couple of days old."

We lapsed into silence for the rest of the drive back to HQ. I pondered the change in body dump location. I was pretty confident our latest victim had been dumped as well, just like the others. It was doubtful the Guardians’ report would tell me much, other than she'd died elsewhere and her body had been moved. I wondered why she'd been dumped in a disused warehouse. So far the perp hadn't gone to a lot of trouble to hide the bodies, seeming unconcerned that they'd been found. But a warehouse that no one used anymore? Chances of anyone finding her, at least for quite some time, were slim. Why? And more importantly, how? How was the perp forcing changes on what appear to be full-blood humans? The blood work from the autopsies had come back containing multiple DNA. Had there been contamination during or after the death? I couldn't point a finger at the vamps or werewolves, as the changes were a combination of both. Wolf snouts with vampire fangs. Wolf body with no fur but pale white skin. It just didn't make sense.

Back at my desk, I shrugged out of my Kevlar jacket, hanging it on the back of my chair. Removing my pyre-gun, I dropped it into the top drawer of my desk, followed by my hat. Stripped down to my Kevlar pants and black tank, I looked more like I was about to go jogging rather than an SIA agent. My hair was coming unraveled from my ponytail, so I pulled the elastic out, shaking out the long strands of black hair.

I heard Carter's sharp intake of breath. Knew that letting my hair loose had sent my scent flying in his direction. A scent he'd told me on more than one occasion drove him wild.

"Raven," he growled, his body deathly still as he watched me. Slowly I eased into my chair, feigning a casualness I didn't feel. I wasn't in danger; he wasn't about to leap across the desk and tear my throat out. He was more likely to leap across the desk and ravage me in a whole different way.

"You know," I said in a conversational tone, activating my screen rather than looking at him, "the government officials who invented my last name really did lack imagination. I mean, c'mon. Black? After the nuns had named me Raven? Raven Black. I guess I'm lucky they didn't decide on Raven Raven. Or Raven Doe."

"It works. I like it," Carter muttered, relaxing somewhat as he shrugged out of his own jacket and removed his weapon. I heard his chair squeak as he sat. It's not that I don't find Carter attractive. Hell, I'd have to be dead. He was gorgeous: over six feet of muscled goodness, tanned skin, strong square jaw in a face marred by a scar under his bottom lip and another through his eyebrow, scars that only added to his rugged good looks. His chocolate brown eyes could melt a woman at fifty paces, which was why I didn't meet them now. His wolf wasn't very far beneath the surface, and while I wasn't afraid, I was affected by the extra animal magnetism pouring out of him. Leading up to the change his urges became amplified, and on my list of things not to do was tumble in the sheets with a fellow agent. No matter how sexy and attractive I found him.

"Stop thinking about it," he snapped at me now. "I can practically smell what you're thinking and it isn't helping."

"Sorry." Geez. Wolves and their senses. I hated this time of the month.

Turning my attention back to my screen, I typed in Crimson Mist Nightclub and clicked the link to the club's official website. Owned by Nate Wilder, managed by Xavier Elizondo. The website didn't reveal much. A listing of guest DJs and events they had coming up. Humans and supernaturals welcome. Beverage listings, including synthetic blood. Crimson Mist was located in Mistlyn, the south side of town and east of the Amuletic River. Mistlyn's old loading docks and cobblestone streets hinted at the former warehouse district’s past, while stylish bars and gleaming lofts pointed to its modernization. Crimson Mist was on the waterfront, one of the converted docks. Prime location. Must have cost a pretty penny.

A report notification appeared in the top right-hand corner of my screen. I bookmarked the Crimson Mist web page and closed the browser, enlarging the incoming report with a swipe of a finger.

"Yep. Just like we thought, Carter. Body dump. Allena Niles was not killed at the warehouse where she was found. Looks like the kids who found her got in the same way as our killer, broken door on the west side of the warehouse. Tire marks right outside."

"Owner is one Nate Wilder." Carter had pulled up the report.

"Hang on. I know that name." Yes. The owner of Crimson Mist. I pulled up the nightclub's website again to double-check.

"Carter!" My voice rose in excitement. "Guess who owns Crimson Mist?"

"By your voice, I'm guessing Nate Wilder?"

"Yes!"

Punching Nate's name into the SIA database, my breath hitched when his mug shot appeared. Shirtless, hands on hips, he was magnificent. My fingers itched to trace the hard outline of his well-defined abs, down to the black jeans that hung low on lean hips. Curving over one shoulder and around the bicep of his left arm was a tribal tattoo, thick swirls in black ink. Short brown hair casually styled as if he'd just run his fingers through it. Straight dark brows framed striking blue eyes. His nose was straight, in proportion with his cheekbones and mouth. God what a mouth. Cupids bow above a full lower lip. And strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. Tapping the screen, I rotated the image. His muscled shoulders and back showed the rest of his tattoo and clear expanse of skin. He was pale, but then he was a vampire, so tanning was out of the question. He was one mighty fine looking vampire. Dragging my eyes from his picture, I read his file.

Vampire. 180 years old. Thirty human years at the time of turning. Retired special ops. Well, that explained his to-die-for body. Owned property in the docks, Mistlyn, and Garden District. I already knew about the warehouse at the docks and the nightclub in Mistlyn. I clicked on Garden District and a picture of a magnificent house filled my screen. House my ass. This was a mansion. The guy must be loaded, but then having been around for 180 years gave you plenty of time to accumulate a few dollars.

"We need to visit Mr. Wilder." I glanced at the time on my comms unit. Too late for tonight. The sun would be up within an hour; we'd have to sit on this until next shift.