Glass crunched softly under my feet as I picked my way through the rubbish, my laser held at the ready and every sense I had tuned for the slightest hint of movement or life. But there was nothing. The only sounds were the wind and my own breathing, which wasn't quite as steady as I would have liked.

The doorway led into a short corridor and, at the far end, a set of swinging doors. Two other doors led off the corridor itself, but neither of these were open. I hesitated at the swinging doors, flicking to infrared and searching the room beyond. Once again, there was nothing to suggest there was any sort of life-or unlife-laying in wait, but that strange blackness was filling it.

I went through carefully and quietly, catching the door with my free hand before it could swing back and clip the other door. The less noise I made, the better. I had no idea what lay beyond that blot of darkness, but I wasn't about to announce my presence any more than necessary.

The air in this room was still, untouched by the wind that played about the rest of the building. Despite my earlier confidence that the inner building had to have some light, it didn't. There were absolutely no windows or skylights. It was little more than a big, black metal box. A box that held a heart of deeper darkness.

I scooted to the right, keeping my footsteps light and my back to the wall. Though I still wasn't getting any readings from infrared, I had a sense that something was near. My internal radar for dead things was jumping. Whether it was my zombie or something else, I had no idea. I certainly couldn't smell either the zombie or anyone else up ahead.

I reached the side wall. There were rust stains and small holes on the concrete floor-indications that machinery of some sort had once stood here. The smell of grease was prevalent, and a good inch of it coated the wall. It smelled faintly of age and rot, and made me wonder just what had been manufactured here.

Keeping a few inches between myself and that grimy wall, I padded along, listening intently for any sounds that might indicate I was getting nearer to my quarry. There was nothing. If not for the fact that my "other" senses were insisting that something was near, I might have thought I'd lost him yet again. It was almost as if that black blot in the center-whatever it was-was sucking up all sound and motion.

I crept nearer. Power began to slide across my skin-a tingling, almost burning sensation that somehow felt unclean. I frowned, my steps slowing as the darkness in front of me seemed to grow-deepen-somehow. I reached out with my free hand and felt an odd sort of resistance to my touch before it gave way. My hand moved forward, into that darkness, and became lost. I knew my hand was there, but I could no longer see it.

Great. I was about to walk into a black hole, and who knew just where I was going to come out?

I blew out a breath, then wrapped the shadows of the room around me, using my vampire skill to hide my body from view. I might be walking into a trap, but I had no intention of doing so in plain sight.

I stepped into the blackness. I might as well have walked into a wall of glue. It pulled at me, making every step a battle. I pushed forward, fighting the gluey blackness, until sweat began to trickle down my spine. Just when I was beginning to think the blackness might never end, I was free of it-the suddenness of it leaving me staggering forward for several steps before I caught my balance.

The darkness beyond the black wall wasn't as deep, meaning I could actually see again. Ahead of me was the zombie. By his side were two big, black dogs. Only I didn't think they were ordinary dogs-not if the scent of sulfur was anything to go by. Sulfur was the scent of demons. I'd come across it once before, when I was trying-with Quinn's help-to close down a demon gate. It had been guarded by a hellhound, and the bastard had almost torn me to pieces. I didn't fancy meeting two of them-not without any sort of weapon that would do them damage, like holy water and silver. God, it was tempting-very tempting-just to step back into the gluey darkness and disappear.

Only I had a job to do, and they didn't seem to be noticing me anyway. They were too busy looking upward, just like the zombie. I followed their lead. Above them, a gantry stretched from one side of the room to the other-a rusting metal structure that seemed far older than the building itself. On it sat a crow.

And while it looked like an ordinary everyday bird, I doubted there was anything plain or ordinary about it, if only because whatever it was had the complete and undivided attention of both the hellhounds and the zombie. If it wasn't a shifter, then it was undoubtedly something a whole lot less pleasant, and I really didn't want to discover what. Especially with the bitter taste of evil that seemed to be rolling off it.

I raised the laser and pressed the trigger. The crow must have sensed the shot at the last moment, because it dived sideways-a very uncrowlike movement if I'd ever seen one-and the bright laser beam shot past its wing.

I fired again. It squawked and avoided the laser a second time, moving faster than I would have thought possible for anything not a vampire.

I swore and shot the zombie instead. The beam hit him neck height, severing left to right. His head rolled slowly off and made a wet splash as it hit the floor. His body crumbled and did the same.

I shuddered. Rotting flesh indeed.

I raised my gaze to the ceiling again. The crow squawked even as I sighted the laser, and the two hellhounds turned as one, their beady yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness and their thick canines bared.

The bird was definitely in control of the beasties.

I pulled the trigger, firing off a final shot at the crow, then turned and ran into the black glue. A howl ripped across the air, but the sound abruptly closed off as the blackness wrapped itself around me.

But I knew they were behind me. I could smell the thick scent of sulfur getting ever closer. It seemed the blackness wasn't quite the hindrance to them that it was to me, and sweat broke out across my brow as I realized that I wasn't going to get out of this before they were on me.

Then a hand came out of nowhere, wrapped itself around my arm, and hauled me none too gently upward.

Chapter Two

As I landed on a metal walkway that groaned under my weight, the hand released me. I spun around, ready to fight, not sure whether I'd been rescued or drawn into deeper danger.

The raw scent of wolf swirled around me, rich with a musk that was all man and totally delicious.

It was also a scent I recognized, even if I'd only smelled it once, and then only briefly.

Kye-the man who'd played bodyguard to Patrin, the son of our pack's alpha, Blake, and one mean bastard.

I couldn't see him in the gluey blackness, but I really didn't need to. Not given how close he was. Not when the heat of his body rolled across mine, sending warm prickles of desire skating across my skin.

Not a good reaction. Not when the moon bloomed near fullness, and especially not when we were in such a dangerous situation. Danger is an aphrodisiac to a wolf, and my hormones didn't need that sort of prompting right now.

I tried to step back and put some distance between us, but his hand grabbed mine again, pulling me closer, until the heat of him was pressed against me and all I could smell was the tangy aroma of sweat and man and desire.

God, he smelled good.

Don't speak, he said quickly. The witch can hear through the black shield.

Shock rolled through me, battering away the desire. How the fuck could his thoughts breach my shields so easily?

My shields were vampire tight-I knew, because I'd tested them recently against Quinn and Jack, both of whom were extremely powerful telepaths. If they couldn't breach my shields, then this man certainly shouldn't be able to. Hell, according to his records-which we'd checked after our brief run-in when he'd been Patrin's watchdog-neither he nor any of his pack had ever shown any evidence of psychic skills.

Yet here he was, succeeding in doing the one thing two powerful vampires could not. Come to think of it, he'd been extraordinarily fast that day I'd cornered him and Patrin in my apartment. That might not have been a psychic skill, as such, but it proved there was something going on with this man. Something out of the ordinary for someone who supposedly was just another werewolf.

Your records say you're not telepathic, I said, mind voice tart. So how the fuck are you conversing with me that way?

Records often don't contain all the facts. His words ran with warmth, and it spun through my body like a summer storm, heating and electrifying. And I'm not telepathic.

So, this conversation we're having is just a figment of my imagination?

His amusement danced though my thoughts, and my hormones tripped along to its tune. My heart was beating so fast I swear it was about to go into a meltdown, and I wasn't entirely sure whether it was desire for the man who was holding me altogether too close, or fear of him.

An odd reaction given some of the things I'd faced over the last few years.

Like the zombie, the witch, and those yellow-eyed dogs are figments? he said, mind voice wry. I think you know better than that.

Those dogs are hellhounds, and unless you have some holy water on you, we don't stand much of a chance against them.

I have no intention of fighting them. That's why I'm up here and they're down there.

So why else are you up here, exactly? And why the hell did the press of his body against mine have to feel so good?

This closeness had to stop, otherwise I might not be able to.

I stepped back, breaking his grip on my arm and forcing some distance between us. His scent clung to my skin and clothes, teasing my nostrils and sending my pulse rate into another merry dance. But with the heat of his body no longer pressed so invitingly against me, it felt like I could breathe again. Concentrate again.

I'm tracking a killer, he said. What are you doing here?

Same. Only I'm legal.

His smile felt like sunshine through rain. All warm and sparkly as it spun through my thoughts.

Bounty hunters are legal.

Not in this state, buddy boy. I paused. Why are you hunting the zombie?

Who said I was hunting the zombie?

The metal platform swayed a little as he moved and I grabbed sideways, wrapping a hand around the railing to steady myself. A stupid reaction really, given I could now achieve seagull form and fly with some semblance of proficiency, but it seemed my stupid fear of heights just wouldn't entirely go away.

The dogs are coming back, he added.

I looked down. There was nothing but an inky blackness to be seen, and the only thing I could feel-and smell-was him.

How the fuck can you see or sense anything in this muck?

I can't see them. I can feel them.

How?

He hesitated. Its a talent.

Another talent you supposedly don't have?

Yeah.

The scent of this wolf might be divine, but his continued avoidance of any real information was getting damned annoying.

Tell me why you're here, before I'm tempted to beat the information out of you.

You wouldn't. You re not the type.

You have no idea what type I am, Kye.

Oh, I think I do. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, knew without even seeing his face that his expression would be thoughtful. Intent. Like a soldier sighting an opponent and weighing his options. I saw you in action with Patrin, remember. Given everything he'd done to you and your brother, you would have been well within your rights to kill him. And yet, you let him live. Scared the shit out of him, true, but left him alive. That shows compassion-and perhaps more than a touch of foolishness.

How do you know of our history with Patrin? How did he know about my brother? It certainly wasn't something I spread around-and Patrin surely wouldn't. Not after we'd so thoroughly busted his ass.

But how else would Kye have found out? He might be able to read my surface thoughts with ease, but he'd gotten no further than that.

I was sure of that much.

How else would I know? Patrin boasted me about it, before you and Rhoan showed him just how foolish such attempts would be now.

Patrin's a bastard. And how dare he tell strangers that Rhoan and I were related! In our line of business, that could get dangerous-and giving that sort of information to a man who was little more than a gun for hire was doubly so. But why would he have told you about us? It had nothing to do with your stint as bodyguard.

Well, conversations about the weather got boring, he said, mind voice dry. Your pack mate is not the most intelligent conversationalist around, let me tell you.

"What the fuck?" The voice rose out of the blackness, thick with anger and very definitely female. "Don't tell me you lost the trail?"

No words answered her, but one of the hellhounds whined.

So, not only could the zombie understand crow, but the witch could understand hellhound, Either that, or they were telepathic-which was entirely possible, given that my knowledge of hellhounds could have filled a teaspoon.

"Well, scents just can't disappear." She paused, as if listening, then added, "No excuses accepted. Finish off the creature. We must get out of here."

I glanced toward Kye. Who is that?

My target.

She's the crow?

Yep.

Who put you onto her?

The father of her first victim. He's a friend of mine, and asked me to look into it.

The first victim was only murdered several nights ago. That's not exactly giving us a whole lot of time to solve this case.

If it was your daughter, he said, mind voice patient, like he was talking to a slightly slow child, wouldn't you take every avenue you could to find her killer?

He had a point-although it wasn't one I was about to acknowledge. So technically, you're not hunting a bounty, you're just hunting.

With intent to kill. Just like me. Except I was supposedly on the side of the angels. Kye was on no one's side but his most recent employer.

Considering hunting is illegal in this state, do you think it wise for me to admit it?