Hoss looked around the hallway for any clues of Daidhl’s next move. Besides the metallic stench, he detected foul milk.

Hoss led Agnes out of the elementary school. She’d been quiet. Too quiet.

“You haven’t said anything since you saw the ghost. What did Annie say?”

She walked over to her car. “Both Kathy and I are in danger.”

“We already knew that.”

“But it gives me an idea.” She quickly got into the car.

He didn’t like her tone and slid inside. “What does that mean?”

“Look Hoss, you’ve said repeatedly that you and the so-called Fates can’t determine who are the mates, but this bastard can. As far as I can see, we’re always going to be one step behind.”

“Go on.”

“Annie said he’s obsessed with both me and Kathy. This is our advantage.”

“What are you saying?” he asked slowly, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

She started the car. “We could set up a trap. Kathy and I could be the bait.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve come up with.”

She glared. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

He fought not to lash out at her, but it brimmed slowly out of his voice“How the hell do you want me to talk to you? When you’re determined to walk into a wike’s den.”

She frowned. “What’s a wike?”

“A ferocious beast on Zalara with a mouth full of teeth, a spiky tail, and long talons. But it pales to this creature. This isn’t a human, Agnes. This is a Mistonian. One of the deadliest creatures in the universe.”

“Hoss, this is my job. I swore an oath to serve and protect. If I can stop the killing, I’m going to do it.”

“I can’t let you do this.”

She cast him a look that froze his tongue. “You don’t have a choice. This is what I do.”

He nervously tapped his hands on his thighs. “Where are we going?”

“Back to headquarters.”

He stopped tapping and scowled. “Why?”

“I need to do a time line to see if there is a pattern of any kind.”

Her tight face looked like she was a million miles away and she needed to be looped back into reality. “He only goes after mates.”

“I realize that, but maybe they’re not at random.”

He opened his mouth, but shut it. Frustration roasted inside him like a piece of meat. He was about to argue, but it would be pointless. Why was he getting so upset? She was just another woman––a stubborn woman––that he enjoyed, and if she were walking into danger, he shouldn’t care. There were always more women––at least tons on Earth.

His fingers turned numbed and his skin chilled at losing her. He’d gone through women on Zalara like water, just to prove he wasn’t like his father. Why did the thought of her being killed leave him ice cold? The concern had to be because his lineage would end. He refused to admit it was anything else.

She parked the SUV in police headquarters and got out of the car. She stretched her back then quickly headed toward the front door without waiting for him. Stubborn wench.

The last place he wanted to be was here. Every time, he always ended up in a cell that he could easily escape, but was under orders not to. Pushing aside his unease, he easily over took her. She barely glanced at him, but didn’t block him from coming.

“So, you’re not speaking to me?”

She stopped and glared. “I don’t play games. I just don’t want to argue. I learned a long time ago that it’s useless to try and change the mind of stubborn over-bearing men.”

“Is that what you think I am?” he asked softly.

She turned, her back stiff. “All men are.”

Hoss wanted to take her back into his arms and show her that not all men were enemies, but he doubted she’d believe him. Based on the men in her life, she had no reason to trust him.

They were quickly near the interrogations rooms, that he unfortunately knew too well. She led him past the rooms to a large glass office with leather chairs, a long table, and bulletin boards. Crime photos were pinned on the bulletin.

Several men sat around the table, including Agnes’s brother, Frank. When they walked into the conference room, Frank stood and headed toward them.

“Agnes, what are you doing here? We are in the middle of doing real police work.” He sneered. “I thought you would still be using your psychic powers to figure out how to find the killer.”

Hoss narrowed his eyes. “Why are you so disrespectful to your sister?”

Frank straightened his tie. “Because she’s been a disgrace to our family for years. There is no magic in police work.”

“That hasn’t been my experience,” Hoss muttered. The dragon within him burned with fury, and Hoss shook, struggling not to fry the man alive.

Agnes held up her hands and stepped between them. “Stop. I can take care of myself.” She faced her brother. “Until the captain takes me off this case, I’m still on it.”

Her voice was surprisingly strong.

“For now,” her brother muttered.

She glanced at the photographs of the victims’ stark faces that were pinned to the bulletin-boards. “There has to be a pattern with these women… Something we have missed.”

Frank gestured toward the same pictures. “We are close to developing a profile on him, and we were going to call a briefing to go over it with your team.”

She followed her brother. “Good. It’s a start.” She flashed Hoss a warning look to keep his mouth shut.

He obediently followed her into a room that resembled a classroom. There was a podium and chairs lined up in rows. Police officers started filing into the room, taking the chairs, while Frank and his colleagues stood at the front of the line.

Agnes slipped behind the podium. When the last officer took his seat, she said, “The FBI has come up with a profile on our would-be serial killer.” She gestured. “Agent Malloy.”

The officers clapped enthusiastically. Obviously, her brother was a favorite among them. Hoss couldn’t understand why. Frank was an arrogant putz and liked to bully his sister. A behavior that would not have been tolerated on board the Orion.

Frank lifted his hands. “Thank you. We’re honored to be here working with the finest police department in Colorado.”

“We’re glad to have you,” someone called out from the back.

Frank smiled. “I have missed all of you and am glad to be back, but we have a job to do.”

The captain entered from the back and came to stand next to Hoss. His face was grim except for his eyes that looked were bleary as if he hadn’t slept for days.

Hoss understood. Daidhl was out of control, determined to kill every last mate. If he was successful killing the women here, he’d move on until all the mates were exterminated. They had to stop him before it was too late.

“Captain Morgan,” Frank nodded. “Thanks for inviting my team.”

The captain sighed heavily and folded his arms across his chest. Hoss got the feeling he was less than pleased having this team here, but was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

“We have a profile,” Frank said. “The unsub is Caucasian and between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-four years old. He’s educated and holds a position that requires planning and execution. He’s patient and works alone. However, he’s charismatic enough to get close to these women. He’s filled with anger and hates women, but there has been no evidence of sexual assault prior to the murder. He has had some medical training or perhaps a butcher since he had a knowledge of human anatomy based on his precision in cutting out the organs.”

Some of the officer’s faces paled, but no one made a comment.

Hoss thought Frank’s profile wasn’t describing the Orion’s competent navigator at all. Daidhl hadn’t had any medical training. In fact, he used to faint at the sight of blood. No, it was the Mistonian who had the knowledge, but he kept silent.

Frank’s partner, James Holmes, chimed in. “The unsub kills his victims swiftly, and he is in complete control during the attacks. Mutilation occurs postmortem. He’s arrogant and brazen, likes to create terror before he murders his victims. He’s had training in using a knife.”

Frank interrupted. “We know he probably works a swing shift, because the victims were killed in the early morning hours or prior to midnight. He lives in this area, because his victims up until now have all been confined to this area.

Hoss snorted and earned hostile stares from the rest of the men. But what could he say? The smug FBI agents were as accurate as navigating through a wormhole.

“These are lust murders, which don’t have anything to do with love or sexual meaning. The unsub attacks the genitalia of his victims. In this case, the vagina and breasts are the focal points of his attacks. Generally males who are perform such attacks, are involved in a homosexual relationship.”

Hoss bit back a smirk. Definitely wrong on that account.

The captain mumbled under his breath, “Something you found amusing?”

“No.” Hoss managed to keep his laughter contained. Humans referred everything back to sex.

An officer raised his hand. “This sounds like a profile on Jack the Ripper. Is this man copying the murders?”

Frank shook his head. “No. Jack the Ripper was an opportunist killer. He only attacked outdoors except for the last victim. He also only attacked prostitutes. Our unsub has killed an accountant and a school teacher. We still have not identified the second victim, but I doubt that the victim was a prostitute. Jack the Ripper also had worked a day job Monday through Friday, because all of his murders had occurred on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday in the early morning hours.

However, there are similarities between the two. Both killers would have come from dysfunctional families. They both would have been raised by a domineering mother and a weak and passive father, or an absent one. His mother would have drank heavily and enjoyed the company of many men. Consequentially, both men would have become detached socially and emotionally from people. In their younger years, they would have expressed this anger by setting fires and torturing animals.”

Hoss watched Agnes. She furiously moved her fingers over her iPad and excitement flickered in her eyes. He wished he were standing next to her to figure out what she was doing.

“By perpetrating these acts,” Frank said. “The unsub would have discovered dominance, power, and control, and found a way not to get caught. Based on this profile, we know one thing for certain. He likes when he’s doing. He’s gotten away with it. And he’s not going to stop.”

The captain headed up to the podium. “Thank you, Agent Malloy.” He faced the officers still sitting in their seats. “Now, you’ve heard the profile. We’re dealing with a dangerous serial killer. Be on the look out for anything suspicious.”

The men got up talking and murmuring to themselves, but Hoss wasn’t listening. All he cared about was getting to Agnes. She got to him first. The same excitement reflected in her eyes.

“Come with me.” She pulled her iPad out of her bag and hurried past him. “We need to get back to the conference room.”

Hoss followed her, knowing he wasn’t going to like what she was going to say.

“What’s going on?”

“It hit me when Frank was talking about the comparison between the killer and Jack the Ripper.”

“Much of what he said wasn’t right. Daidhl wasn’t a homosexual, and he came from a loving family.”

“Okay, but the murders, they’re the same.”

“What?”

“Your navigator is mimicking the Jack the Ripper murders. I know he is.”

“Of course. Jack the Ripper was one of Earth’s most notorious serial killers and still strikes fear in people.”

“Exactly. What better way to generate fear.”

They entered the empty conference room. “But I need to be sure.” She pulled up a website. “Look. Mary Nichols was Jack the Ripper’s first victim. Her neck was cut with a strong bladed knife. She had a deep cut that ran along her abdomen and her intestines were draped out of her body, just like Sharon Reese.”

“The Ripper’s third victim, Elizabeth Stride, had her throat savagely cut from behind, but he didn’t have time to mutilate the body, because someone was coming.”

“Like Annie Watkins,” he muttered.

“Yes, Principal Myers walked in on him.”

“What happened to the Ripper’s second victim?”

“That was Annie Chapman. She was horribly mutilated. Her womb was surgically removed.”

“But we haven’t found the second victim. We only have her womb.”

“Exactly. My guess is that she must live alone, and no one’s reported her missing.”

As if on cue, the captain entered the conference room. “Malloy.”

His voice was grave.

Agnes put down her iPad.

The captain slid into the chair across from her. “There’s another body.”

Hoss’s stomach tightened. “Where?”

“A high rise. The victim had shown up for her mother’s birthday party. Her mother was worried and got the superintendent to open the door for her.”

“Oh, God.” Agnes covered her mouth. “That poor woman.”

For such a tough detective, she had a soft heart. The woman was such a contradiction.

“I don’t understand it.” The captain ran his hand over his bald head. “How’s the bastard getting inside? There’s no sign of forced entry.”

Agnes and Hoss glanced at each other knowingly. Not being able to answer the captain, they rushed out of headquarters and got into her car. Agnes put a siren on top of the roof. The loud scream stretched Hoss’s nerves.

“Agnes,” he said. “It’s not just the victims he wants to create terror. It’s the police. He’s toying with all of you.”

“He’s doing a damn good job,” she muttered. “If he follows his pattern, the victim will have her left arm laid across her left breast. Her legs will be drawn up, her feet resting on the ground, while her knees are turned outward. Her face will be swollen, her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Her head will be turned on the right side.”

Within minutes, they’d arrived at the high rise. Cop cars were parked in front, and once again, police officers were corralling the curious on-lookers back. Agnes and Hoss got out of the car and hurried to the door. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing the grisly scene. By Agnes’s drawn face, she was dreading it as well.

They entered the painstaking slow elevator that creaked up to the crime scene. When the doors opened, cops were patrolling the floor, but the first thing, Hoss noticed was the stench of decay and offal. It reminded him of a thousand dead vlats next to a stopped up toilet. He gritted his teeth to keep from vomiting. Agnes’s face paled, but she quickly made her way to the apartment. Unfortunately, Frank and his men had beaten them to the crime scene.

Frank greeted them at the victim’s door. “What took you so long, Detective? Been trying to use your visions?”

“Excuse me, Agent.” She whooshed past him.

Hoss had to walk down the hallway to keep from throttling Frank. He was Agnes’s older brother and should be trying to protect her, not humiliate her. Usually he would have taken deep breaths, but the odor was so bad, he thought it would stick to his lungs and dust over his lips.

But he wouldn’t abandon his mate. His eyes watered from the smell. He was the chief security officer of the Orion, but he’d never experienced anything so foul.

Agents were taking pictures, including Agnes. He came along side her and his heart froze. The victim was dismayed exactly as Agnes had described. All he could think about was that Agnes wanted to act as bait. How could he ever let her do this? He’d already failed to protect three other designated mates.

She kept glancing over at the balcony, and he followed her gaze, wondering if she was seeing the victim’s ghost. He whispered his question in Agnes’s ear.

Agnes nodded. “Her name was Laura Nybo. She was a social worker. Worked with middle school students. If you’ll excuse me, I need to wander through the house.”

He didn’t argue with her. Maybe the ghost was talking to her. He wandered over to the balcony. Obviously, it was the way that Daidhl was getting inside. Beyond the glass door on the next building, a pair of gold eyes were glaring at him.

Daidhl–it was a challenge.

Hoss tensed, and his nostrils flared, releasing a puff of angry smoke.

“Hey, no smoking in here.” Someone growled over his shoulder.

He ignored him and quickly headed for the balcony. Not caring if anyone saw him, he opened it and went outside.

As he shut it, someone yelled, “Hey!”

He thought it was Frank, but he’d no time to lose. He hated doing this to Agnes, but this was a chance to take down Daidhl. He was stronger and faster than an Inquistain dragon. The door opened.

“What the hell are you doing?” Frank demanded.

Hoss didn’t glance behind him. Instead, he dove off the balcony.

“Jesus Christ!” Frank yelled. “Anonghos!”

Hoss did a somersault in mid-air and in a split second, transformed into a dragon. Daidhl jumped off the opposite building and flew into the clouds. Hoss flapped his wings hard and picked up speed. He inhaled and easily picked up the trail of spoiled milk.

A stream of fire burst out of a dark cloud. Hoss shifted to the side, but the tip of his wing was singed. He grimaced, vowing to rip Daidhl into pieces. He inhaled, drawing on the depth of his fire within him. In one large exhale, he sprayed a blazing inferno inside the cloud. His reward was a loud shriek.

Daidhl burst out of his hiding place, his eyes a fiery gold. His scales glowed red along one side and were slowly turning black. But his opponent wasn’t done.

He opened his mouth to rows of teeth. He swung around and unleashed his claws. Hoss was ready and easily outmaneuvered him. Daidhl made another pass and this time, he swung his tail that slammed into Hoss’s singed wing. Agony gripped him. His wing collapsed, and he spun around toward the ground with Daidhl’s flying toward him. Victory shone in the little dragon’s eyes.

Hoss forced the pain back to his mind and drew on his dragon strength. He turned over and flapped his wing. He did an about face in midair and blew. Fire caught Daidhl’s in the face. He released a terrible howl.

Just when Hoss thought he could destroy him, Daidhl disappeared. He flew straight for the direction that he’d last seen Daidhl, following the stench of burned milk into a dark cloud. It was a mistake.

Out of no where, claws tore into his back side, ripping apart his scales and slashing into his flesh. He bucked repeatedly to get Daidhl off him, but the little dragon clamped his jaw on Hoss’s neck. Sharp, jagged teeth tore into his throat, cutting off his air. Panic seized Hoss as he swirled around repeatedly, trying to throw Daidhl off, but the Inquistain hung on tight. He was stronger than normal, thanks to the Mistonian.

Hoss’s eyes fluttered shut. Dizziness overtook him. His strength fled from him and his wings collapsed. Daidhl released him.

Hoss fell faster and faster. He tried to flap his wings, but they failed to respond. Moisture from the clouds wet his body, making him shiver. He slammed into a tree, and leaves and twigs scratched and ripped his skin. He landed hard onto the ground. A loud crunch rippled through him–more agony seized his breath. His wings were stretched out and bent awkwardly beneath him. His talons and legs curled up next to his underbelly.

Every time he took a breath, wetness flowed down his chest. He inhaled the scent of metallic. Blood. His blood. He was dying.

All he could think about was Agnes–how sweet her lips were, how sleek she was when he entered her, and how her nails dug into his shoulders when she came, screaming his name. He would have wanted to taken her one more time. But then images of the past victims blocked out her loving memory and terror gripped him as he thought of what that bastard would do to her.

Hoss vowed to come back as a ghost to terrorize Daidhl.