Brazen (4 page)

Seven

Nick

Malcolm had let Tina run because it amused him, but Nick knew it was more than simple sport. It had saved Malcolm the hassle of transporting her out of this neighborhood. It might be empty here, but there was life a few blocks over. Presumably there was no place nearby he’d deemed suitable to hold her. Also, a quick capture lacked challenge. 

As a trained agent, Tina wouldn’t flee to the authorities. With her ego, she’d be cursing herself for getting jumped. Also, Malcolm wouldn’t simply have released her but would have allowed her to “escape,” so she’d think she bested him. That would give her the confidence not to run for help. She’d want to repair her failure. To turn the tables and catch him. More of a stalking game than a chase. All the while, he’d be herding her.

Their trails confirmed Nick’s guess. They’d converge and separate, and he could see Malcolm driving her along a preordained path, one that funneled Tina where he wanted her to go, giving her few options to divert from the path and driving her back onto it when she did.

Nick kept Vanessa informed as he went, but they didn’t talk otherwise. She watched his back in silence as he tracked. He considered changing forms, but the path was clear enough.

Too clear?
That was the question.

Did Malcolm lay this trail for someone to follow? No. The only person who
could
follow it was a werewolf, and Malcolm wouldn’t expect that one of the Pack had sent Tina after him. Werewolves didn’t hire outsiders to do their dirty work. He’d presume Tina was from the Nasts so he wouldn’t worry about his scent trail. Still, Nick kept an eye—and an ear—on his surroundings.

Eventually the trail led to an empty building, abandoned so long that it was impossible to tell what it had been. Maybe a small factory or a school—a two-story rectangular box without a window intact.

Nick glanced around the neighborhood. Not really a neighborhood so much as a piece of land with buildings on it, some homes, some commercial, some occupied, some not. At this hour, it was silent. He took one last listen and then led Vanessa through a doorway. 

•••

Inside, the only light came from the moon shining through broken windows.

“Can you see?” Nick whispered to Vanessa.

“Not well.”

He gave her credit for admitting it. “Stay close. If you can’t see me in front of you, let me know. I’d rather not use flashlights if we can help it.”

“If I need to, I have this.” She lifted her fingers and they started to glow.

He nodded. She’d explained on the drive that she was an Aduro, a mid-level fire demon. As defensive powers went, it was a good one. 

“If you need that, use it,” he whispered. “Better than tripping in the dark and making noise.”

“I know.”

There was no annoyance in her voice, but he murmured an apology nonetheless, as she had when she questioned his scent tracking. Neither was accustomed to working with the other. They had to remember that.

Even inside, Nick couldn’t tell what purpose the building had once served. Anything that could leave a hint had been stripped. It was all empty rooms. Well, not really empty—there was plenty of junk, but most of it seemed to have been brought in by squatters over the years. 

Now, though, he could hear no signs of life. When he passed one room, he caught the scent of a corpse. A recent one. Human. Male. He smelled blood, too, meaning the man hadn’t died of a drug overdose or natural causes. 

As they passed the room, Vanessa lit up her fingers and waved them inside, illuminating a corpse, sitting up, throat ripped out.

“Werewolf?” she whispered. 

Nick didn’t answer right away. It was a classic werewolf murder, which made him slow to reply. It’s not easy to tear out someone’s throat when you’re in human form, so there was a moment where he wondered if it really was Malcolm’s work. But then he caught the scent and when he moved closer, he found a few dark hairs caught in the man’s ripped flesh. Wolf fur. Malcolm had changed form and cleared the building, scaring out those who would run and killing those who wouldn’t.

Nick told Vanessa, and she gazed down at the body. Her expression wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t horrified either. There was disgust there. More consideration, though, before turning to him and saying, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She nodded at the body, and then waved around the building, and he knew what she meant. Sorry that she’d thought he was exaggerating. That she’d underestimated Malcolm.

“Let’s find Tina,” he said.

She nodded and followed him out of the room.

•••

They found a second body. A girl. Maybe seventeen. A street kid. She lay on her back, long sleeves ripped as if she’d tried to protect her throat as the wolf leapt on her. That death hit harder, and it took a moment to move on. When they did, Nick heard a sound. The whisper of fabric on concrete, so faint he thought he’d imagined it until he made Vanessa stop moving and caught the noise again. It sounded like something being dragged across the concrete floor. 

No, not something—someone.

He followed the sound. They were on the second floor and the noise seemed to come from the middle. When he approached, his arm shot out, stopping Vanessa. He motioned for her to light her fingers and look. She did. There, ahead, part of the floor was missing, and they could see down to the first level. A body lay in the middle of the room. 

“Tina,” Vanessa whispered.

Nick caught her before she could move closer to the hole. She didn’t push him off but leaned and strained to see better. Tina lay on her stomach. Drag marks led to a blood pool ten feet behind her.

“Is she…?” Vanessa asked.

He was about to say he couldn’t tell when Tina moved, one arm slowly reaching out as she propelled herself forward. That was the sound he’d heard, the swish of her clothes as she dragged herself toward the door.

Vanessa exhaled. She started forward, but this time caught herself.

“It’s a trap, isn’t it?” she whispered.

Nick nodded.

“But we can’t leave.” She straightened. “I have an agent down. That’s my priority, above my own safety.”

She looked over, as if expecting him to argue. He didn’t. If it was a Pack brother, he’d do the same. He waved her back to the hall, where they could come up with a plan.

Eight

Vanessa

Leaving Tina was one of the hardest things Vanessa had ever done. Even if she knew she wasn’t abandoning her, that’s what it felt like. Her agent—her friend—was lying in her own blood, badly injured, and she’d walked away.

They came up with a plan as quickly as possible. Then they separated. Vanessa retreated to the stairs, moving as fast as she could. She zipped down them, then slowed, listening for the faintest creak or scuff of a footfall.

How badly had she screwed up here? Worse than she ever had before. It didn’t matter if Rhys had refused to let Nick take over. It didn’t matter if Vanessa had warned Tina off and called Jayne in to assist. She did not accept excuses from her team and she would not make excuses here. Whatever had happened to Tina—whatever was happening now—it was her fault.

Nick had stayed upstairs to stand watch over Tina and to avoid spreading his scent farther through the building. She had to struggle to factor scent into the equation. It required a bigger mental leap than she would have imagined. A werewolf could track his prey, no matter where she ran. A werewolf could smell someone nearby, even if they were silent and hidden. And a werewolf could recognize another by scent. Thinking that way was as normal for them as using her built-in flashlight was for her. 

Rhys had a werewolf on the team, and she’d prided herself in thinking she knew all about them because she’d once spearheaded a huge operation with him. Now she realized that was as ridiculous as saying you understand another culture because you have one friend from it. 

As she continued across the first floor, she didn’t detect anyone else around. She gripped her gun, the fingers on her free hand lit, not just for light, but to jumpstart her powers if Malcolm leaped at her from the shadows. That’s what he seemed to have done to Tina. Werewolves didn’t use guns—even the one on Rhys’s team balked at it. From the Nast file, Malcolm had refused to use anything but his fists. They’d send him out with a gun or blade, only to find he’d left it behind, as if even carrying it spoke of weakness.

So Vanessa kept moving, as quickly as she dared, poised for attack. As she turned a corner, she heard a scratching sound. She wheeled, her back to the wall, gun ready. The sound came again, from the direction they’d left Tina. Was it Tina herself? God she hoped so. With every step of the seemingly endless walk downstairs, she’d thought of Tina breathing her last, alone, as Vanessa crept toward her.

She continued, inching along the wall now, struggling to check her speed. The sound grew louder, and Vanessa knew she was close. She moved to the open doorway and stopped.

There was Tina, sprawled on the floor, a few feet farther from that puddle of blood. One arm was outstretched to drag herself along, but only her fingers moved, scratching the concrete floor as if her strength was gone and she was too far into shock to realize the futility of it. Vanessa gripped the wooden doorjamb so hard she smelled smoke. She only gripped harder, struggling not to race into the room.

That’s what he wants. You see her there, dying, and run to her.

Now came the time for trust. To trust that a man she barely knew would watch her back.

She couldn’t look up to confirm Nick was there, watching through the hole. If Malcolm was nearby, he’d notice. She walked forward with her gun out, fingers blazing, knowing that was still not enough to save her from Malcolm. Only Nick could do that. She had to walk into the middle of that floor, an open target.

“Tina?” she whispered.

Tina kept scratching at the floor.

What if this was the trap? What if he’d promised Tina freedom in return for luring in her employers? From here, the only sign of injury was the blood, which wasn’t necessarily even hers.

Vanessa would like to say Tina wouldn’t do that, but of all her agents, Tina was the least reliable, as proven by her refusal to stand down tonight.

Vanessa should have thought of this. Warned Nick. But it was too late. If this was the trap, she had to be ready.

Vanessa moved to Tina’s side and lowered herself to one knee. She could hear Tina’s breathing, shallow and labored. When she touched the woman’s shoulder, Tina didn’t tense, didn’t react at all, just kept scratching the floor.

She gripped Tina’s shoulders with both hands, her fire extinguished, her gun on the floor, intentionally leaving herself vulnerable. Tina still didn’t respond. Vanessa carefully turned her over and—

She sucked in a breath. Tina’s throat was…Vanessa had seen Malcolm’s other two victims, their throats savaged, a bloody mess of tissue and gore. He hadn’t done that to Tina. He’d slit her throat just enough to let her bleed out. Slowly.

Vanessa’s burning fingertips flew to Tina’s neck, pulling the flesh together, then cauterizing the wound to stop the bleeding. Field medicine—a skill she’d learned from another fire half-demon on Rhys’s team. 

She closed the wound, her fingers trembling. And then…And then she looked at Tina and knew it was too late. The wound hadn’t been doing more than seeping blood. The critical loss was back there, a dozen feet away. Tina still breathed, heart pumping, but her eyes were empty, her hand flexing, as if she was still scratching at that floor, the instinct for survival outlasting all other mental functions.

Vanessa told herself she was wrong. Had to be wrong. Tina was alive. Just in shock. The wound was cauterized and now they just needed to get her to help. 

She whipped around, looking for Nick, annoyed that he wasn’t already here to help. When she caught a flicker of motion, she remembered why he wasn’t and grabbed for her gun, but it was only Nick, leaping from the second floor as easily as if it’d been a two-foot hop.

“We need to get her help. There’s a clinic—”

“She’s gone, Vanessa,” he said softly.

“No, she’s breathing. She’s alive. She can get a transfusion. Help me lift—”

“Vanessa?” He took her shoulder and before she could throw him off, he turned her to look down at Tina, lying unmoving on the floor.

“No,” she whispered. She dropped to her knees and looked into Tina’s eyes, wide and staring blankly. Then she heard a rattle, deep in the woman’s chest.

“She’s alive. She…”

Tina’s lips parted, and she exhaled. Then she went still.

Vanessa’s hands slammed down on Tina’s chest, pumping, starting CPR. She knew it was useless. She’d known she couldn’t save Tina from the moment she saw that hole in her throat and that look in her eyes. Tina had been lost before they even made it to the building, staying alive by sheer will, too far gone to revive.

That didn’t stop Vanessa from performing CPR, even as she swore she could feel Tina’s body cooling. At last, she felt Nick’s hand on her shoulder, fingers resting there, telling her what she already knew—they had to go.

Vanessa pulled back and stared down at Tina. The hole in her throat was almost medically precise in its placement. No knife had made it, though. The edges were jagged, as if Malcolm had…she wasn’t even sure how you’d do that. Bite? Rip? Whatever he’d done, there was no way Tina sat still and took it. Yet it would be impossible to be that precise with a struggling—

She bent and ran her hands over Tina’s head. There it was. A goose-egg, also expertly placed. He’d brought her here, questioned her, knocked her out and then cut her throat. That’s why there’d been one blood pool. Tina had almost bled out, then somehow regained consciousness and crawled away.

Vanessa rose. Nick had moved off now, scouting the area and occasionally dropping into a crouch, presumably sniffing.

“It was definitely Malcolm,” he said, though she knew he was checking for her benefit only. He knew who this was. No one else would be this sadistic.

“It wasn’t a trap for us, was it?” she said. “He didn’t even stick around to watch her die.”

“It would seem not,” he said slowly, looking around, frowning.

“You don’t detect any sign of him, do you?”

“No, it’s just…It seems odd.”

“Only if you presume he knew someone would come after Tina tonight, which would have been nearly impossible if we weren’t relatively close already.” She reached down to touch the pool of blood. It was already tacky. “It’s been at least an hour. Maybe two.”

“And he tired of waiting, I suppose. I’ll hide her body for now. You have someone who can come to retrieve it?”

“First thing in the morning. For now, I need to notify Rhys.”

Vanessa retreated to a corner to do that. She kept her back to Tina’s body. It was the only way she could focus. Seven years on the job and she’d never lost an agent. She’d been so proud of her record, and now she realized it’d been dumb luck. No matter how many precautions you took, it was never enough. There was always something to miss, blame to take—

She pushed off the thought and made the call.