Hotter After Midnight

“You ever wonder what it would be like, Captain, if all the Other did reveal themselves? If we stopped pretending? Stopped hiding?” If they all came out of the shadows, what would the world be like then?



“Yeah, I wonder…and I think half of ’em probably wouldn’t give a damn about us being different.”



“And the other half?”



“They’d get the torches and try to burn us all out.”



Colin nodded. “That’s what I figured.” And the world wasn’t ready for a war between the humans and the Other. “So I tell Brooks nothing.”



McNeal nodded. “If he gives you trouble, send him to me.”



No, he could handle Brooks. But, “You know, there are only so many times a man can see magic and deny it.” And if Brooks got tossed across a room by a demon a few more times, odds were good his partner would start to put the facts together.



“If he figures out what’s going on, we’ll deal with it. With him.”



Easy words to say, but he knew Brooks wouldn’t be that easy to handle. His gaze drifted to McNeal’s desk. To the thin picture frame on the side.



A pretty, gray-haired lady smiled cheerfully. His eyes narrowed.



“Keep any information you find on the Other strictly confidential. Brief me, no one else.”



“Right.” He heard the captain’s words, but his attention was caught by the woman in the photo. He inched closer to the frame. The woman was holding something—a basket!



He realized he was looking at a picture of the lady he’d seen in Emily’s office. Margie something. The woman with the hissing wicker basket.



“My mother.” McNeal tapped the picture. “Raised me by herself after my dad died in the war.”



“Umm…” He had to ask. “What’s in the basket?”



A half smile curved McNeal’s lips. “Don’t you know?”



“I—”



The phone beside McNeal rang. A loud, shrill cry. He picked it up, barking, “McNeal.”



His eyes widened as he listened to the voice on the other end. “What? When?”



Colin tensed.



“Shit. My men are on their way.” He slammed down the phone. Shot to his feet. “Get Brooks and get down to the News Flash Five station. I’ll call Emily, tell her to meet you there.”



The News Flash Five station. “What’s happened?”



“Some intern just found Darla Mitchell’s body. Her throat’s been ripped out.”



Chapter 11



He smelled the blood the minute he climbed out of his Jeep. Caught the coppery scent on the wind.



A line of reporters from other stations had already gathered. Lights were flashing. Cameras rolling. “Shit. Guess who’s gonna be on every station at six o’clock in the morning?”



He didn’t have to guess. Dammit. The attention was just what the asshole wanted.



“Colin!” He turned at the feminine cry, found Emily hurrying toward him. Her hair was loose, her glasses slightly askew.



His insides seemed to tighten as he stared at her. He didn’t want her going inside. Didn’t want her seeing the carnage that waited.



But he needed her. And the needs of the cop had to outweigh the man’s.



“I’m going to talk to Smith. See what she’s saying about the victim.” Brooks stepped away, disappearing into the swarm of blue uniforms.



“What’s happening?” Emily’s gaze darted to the line of police cruisers. “McNeal just told me to get down here, fast.”



Shit. She didn’t even know what she was walking into. He grabbed her arm, pulled her with him. “Another murder. Same MO as Myers.” He bent, crouching under the yellow line of police tape at the entrance to the station.



Emily sucked in a sharp breath. “He struck again?”



“You said he probably would.”



“Yes, but I’d hoped I was wrong.” She licked her lips. “The victim…who is it?”



Colin flashed his badge to the cops blocking the crime scene. Emily pulled her ID out of her bag. “She’s working the case as a profiler,” he said.



The scent of blood was stronger now. Clogging his nostrils. Tickling the back of his throat.



If he’d been in his other form, he would have relished the smell. The beast loved the scent.



But the man hated it.



“Colin.” Emily pulled against his hand. “Who’s the victim?”



He dropped her fingers. Pulled out his latex gloves. Time to get to work. “Darla Mitchell.” He shoved open the door and walked into hell.



It was the same as before. The exact same.



Darla’s prone body lay on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding her body. Her throat had been ripped away, torn, clawed. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in horror, and her mouth was twisted in a silent scream.



She’d been pretty in life. But death hadn’t been so kind.



Emily stared down at her still figure. The scents of blood and death filled her nostrils. Around her, she could vaguely hear a buzz of conversation. Brooks was whispering with Smith. Colin was talking to a uniformed officer, ordering the guy to get every piece of surveillance data the station had. A man in a white coat was walking around the body, snapping pictures.



And Darla stared up at her. Screaming.



Emily closed her eyes. Felt the rage simmering in the room. So strong…



She drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly. The kill was fresh. And the dark power of the killer still hung in the air like a looming shadow.



There was no doubt in her mind that the killer who’d savaged Preston Myers and the killer who’d ripped out Darla’s throat were one and the same. Even the blood spatters on the wall looked similar.



The taint of power surrounded her, and Emily realized there was something familiar about that remnant energy. About the hate and twisted fury.



Her eyes opened, scanned the room. Colin was a few steps away from her. Should she warn him about what she was going to do?



But what if she did and the others overheard? Too many people were in the small room. No, she’d just be careful. Not pry too deeply into his mind.



But she had to see…



Emily looked back at the body and slowly, very slowly, lowered the mental shield in her mind.



Shit. I can’t believe the bastard struck again so soon. We’d better find his face on the security camera. No way could he have gotten in and out of this place without someone knowing. The station’s a freaking zoo.



Colin’s mind. She pushed his thoughts away, tried to link with the flow of the killer.



I hope she didn’t suffer.



Her brow furrowed. Not the killer. This guy felt…too sad, but he was definitely Other. Her head lifted and she looked toward the door. A young, uniformed cop stood in the entranceway, his hands clenched into fists. He hadn’t been there when she’d arrived.



Must have just come on duty.



A charmer.



She dismissed him, tried to search again. Damn. It’d been so long since she’d lowered her shields with a group of people. It was hard to narrow her focus. So hard to—



The bitch was too easy to kill.



Emily stiffened. That wasn’t some kind of remnant energy.



Her blood tasted good. He could still feel it on his tongue.



Shit. Her body began to tremble. She moved her head carefully, inch by inch. Scanned the room.



Colin and the young cop were the only supernaturals she saw.



She was been better than that other bastard. Tasted sweeter. Maybe I’ll go for a woman again the next time too.



Emily took one halting step toward the door, then another. Her body felt weighted, but at the same time it was as if she were being pulled. Pulled toward him.



The killer.



He was still in the building.



She had to find him.



Without a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her shields all the way. Felt a flood of hot, dark power singe her, and she lunged for the door.



She’d find him now; she had his psychic trail. She’d get him and—



“Where the hell are you going?” Brooks stepped in front of her, frowning. “This is a crime scene, Dr. Drake, you can’t go running—”



“Get out of my way.”



The cops are right in front of me. The fucking idiots. Maybe I’ll do one of them next. Yeah, that’d be good.



Brooks lifted a brow but stepped back.



Would cops taste different? Would they try to fight more?



Emily hurried out of Darla’s office. Looked to the left. That way.



Cops were searching the hall, some crouching. Standing. Some were talking to reporters.



The dark trail of power was stronger now. Closer.



She shouldn’t have fucked with me. Should have left the doctor alone.



Emily froze as she caught his thought. The doctor.



Darla had asked her questions at the press conference. Asked her about demons.



Had the killer known?



“Emily!” Colin’s voice. A loud, demanding cry that turned every head in the hallway.



The voice in her mind shut off. The twisting power dissipated.



Shit.



Emily ran down the hallway, ignoring Colin’s call. It was like the guy had just thrown up some kind of block. No, not a block. A shield. A shield just like hers.



That didn’t make a damn bit of sense. She’d never met a shifter who had enough psychic power to put up a shield. A demon, yes, but not a shifter.



She pushed past two cops. Turned the corner. And ran straight into Jake.



“Dr. Drake!” His eyes widened and his arms automatically wrapped around her as she barreled into him.



She felt the weak flow of his magic surround her.



Not the guy she was looking for. “Excuse me.” She pulled away from him, ran straight ahead.



But there was nothing. No telltale pull of power. No sign of any high-level supernaturals.



“Emily, what are you doing?” Colin grabbed her elbow, spun her around. “Why are you running?”



“He’s here.”



“What?”



“The killer. He’s still in the building. Or he was…just a moment ago.”



His fingers tightened around her. “How do you know? Did you see something?”



“I heard him.”



Colin frowned, and Emily realized that her words probably weren’t making much sense. But they were wasting time and she had to hurry.



“I lowered my shielding, okay?” Her voice was a whisper. “I wanted to see if I could sense anything about the killing and I-I sensed him. Heard his thoughts. Colin, he was here, just seconds ago.”



He reached for his gun. “You still hear ’im?”



Emily bit her lip. “His voice stopped. When you called my name.”



“Probably because the bastard realized you were here and that you could track him.”



Yes, but how had a shifter known that?



Colin raised his voice, calling out to the cops. “I want a lockdown on this building. Round up every single employee. Put them all in one room.”



“It might not be one of the employees,” Emily said, leaning in close to him. “Colin, the killer could be a cop.”



He swore.



“I-I need to go over every inch of this building, see if I can find him.”



He clamped his hand around her wrist. “You’re not goin’ anywhere without me, Doc.”



His gun was drawn, ready. “Now let’s go find the bastard.”



But they didn’t find him. They searched the entire station, roof to basement. Emily saw every employee, studied every cop, but she couldn’t find the killer.



The only Other she saw were Colin, the young charmer cop, and Jake Donnelley. And none of those men had the right magic trail to match the killer.



He’d gotten away. Somehow, he’d managed to slip past the police and escape.



Dammit.



They were back in Darla’s office. Her body had been covered by a sheet, and two men pushing a gurney were entering the room.



Emily pulled off her glasses, rubbed the bridge of her nose. She’d been so close, and that bastard had gotten away.



“Crime scenes can be hard, can’t they?”



She jerked at the soft voice, so close to her back. Emily turned around, found Smith staring at her with sympathy in her dark eyes.



“Umm, yeah, they can be.” Anything that involved a dead, bloody body automatically fell under “hard” in her book.



“I saw you run out earlier.” Smith hesitated. “Are you all right?”



Emily realized what her sudden fast and furious departure must have looked like.



The profiler couldn’t handle the crime scene.



But it wasn’t like she could tell Smith the truth. So she forced a smile. “I’m fine now.” Actually, she was furious. The murdering bastard had gotten away from her. If she’d had just a few more minutes to track him—



“My first few scenes made me sick. I mean, I’d been in medical school, and I’d seen dead bodies before.” Smith shook her head.



“But seeing a person like this, a person who fought to live just hours ago…” She sighed. “It’s hard to get used to.”



Emily wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to seeing bodies that had been savaged like Darla’s.



“Why don’t you go on home?” Smith suggested. “It’s late, and there can’t be much else you can do here tonight.”



No, there wasn’t anything else she could do. The killer was gone, the reporter was dead, and she was left with the twisted flow of the Night Butcher’s rage sliding through her mind.



“Good idea,” she muttered. “Tell Colin I left, will you?” Cause she didn’t want to face him again just then. After they’d finished searching, he’d looked at her with…damn, had that been doubt in his eyes?