Electric Moon (4 page)

Something that she said caught his attention. “One of them?”

Raven turned queasy at the other reason. “Some packs stick
to the old customs and eat their dead, believing the strength of the deceased
will be absorbed back into the pack. They consider it a great insult to the
family if everyone doesn’t...partake.”

Even Scotts turned a pasty gray at the comment. She couldn’t
blame him.

“Plausible. Except for one small fact you forgot to
mention.” Griffin didn’t look smug anymore.

Scotts glanced between the two of them when no one spoke.
“What?”

Griffin finally looked away from her. “That the process is
instantaneous.”

Her mind spun with the ingenious and frightening
possibilities. “I don’t know how it happened, I just recognize the results.
Suppressed poison. Darts. A skin bandage, maybe. Someone found a way to delay
the response. Though formaldehyde is a gas, it can be turned into a liquid with
a solvent. There can be any number of ways to create a weapon comprising it.”

Griffin didn’t appear convinced. “But there are much easier
ways to kill. Why go through the trouble?”

“You think there will be more?” Scotts appeared resigned to
possibly finding similar crime scenes.

“Don’t you?” She gave both men a level stare. “It’s the
perfect weapon against shifters. We’re lucky formaldehyde breaks down and bonds
to the flesh, otherwise, every shifter in range would be infected.”

“Were you able to identify him?” Raven tried to ignore the
decomp as the pervasive smell invaded her hair and pores.

Scotts nodded to a man holding a bag of parts. “Everything
on his person was destroyed.”

“And no one in the diner recognized him?”

“The waitress said he was a shifter, but not a regular. He
appeared to be waiting for someone, received a call then rushed out back.” Scotts
flipped open his notebook as if he searched harder, the pages would provide
more information.

“I want to see the tapes. There are no void spots on the
wall or ground, so no one was in close proximity. That doesn’t mean he was
alone.” She normally would be invited to the morgue for review, but with the medical
examiner officially missing, all requests for viewings were on hold. And
although she technically didn’t know where the body was buried, she had helped
in his demise when she caught him experimenting and selling shifters for a
twisted hunt. She thought it best to keep her distance.

Scotts reviewed his scribbles. “This was the extent of
surveillance. I’ll get you a copy, but the camera inside broke a few years back.
They fixed it enough to have the red light flash, but nothing recorded.”

“Great.” Raven wandered to where the jeans lay, mostly in
one piece if you could ignore the way the material was riddled with holes. She
crouched without touching anything, noting a familiar rectangular bulge in his
pocket. “You said he received a call. Think you might be able to retrieve
anything from his phone? If the SIM card is still intact, we might be in luck.”

Scotts gloved up and carefully pulled out the phone then held
up the mangled black case. Bones shards pierced the hard plastic, almost making
the phone appear like it was bleeding.

The efficiency of the explosion chilled her.

“I’ll take it back to the labs, but don’t expect much.” Scotts
sounded disillusioned as he waved over a technician and dropped the phone in
the bag provided.

“You assume your theory is a forgone conclusion.” Griffin
lifted his face to the breeze, but his attention was fixated squarely on her.
“How?”

“I’ve seen it before.” She could’ve bitten her tongue,
already regretting have spoken when both men stared at her.

“Where?”

“When?”

The men spoke in unison then shared a look that shot her senses
into overdrive. “You two know each other.” The men started like children caught
being naughty. They avoided looking at each other. “How?”

For some reason, she felt betrayed by Griffin. He insisted
he needed to come along to protect her, but what reason could Griffin have that
he’d want access to her crime scene? She’d be suspicious he’d had a part in the
crime except Scotts didn’t appear disturbed by his presence. Her wolf gave a
huff in disgust, and she agreed completely. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Griffin and I have met.” Scotts shrugged, but didn’t say
anything more.

Her skin prickled at the not quite lie. “You’ve more than
met.” She hesitated, but neither man gave an inch. Then she noticed their body
language. “You’ve worked together.” The revelation knocked her for a loop.

“She’s good.” Griffin spoke to Scotts while staring at her.

“The best.” Scotts didn’t even crack a smile. “I’ll have a
copy of the video and witness statements made available to you. Let me know
what you find.” He walked to the crime scene without confirming or denying her
accusation, effectively ending the conversation.

And left her alone with Griffin. “You didn’t think you were
the only consultant, did you?”

Actually, she had.

Without another word, Raven spun on her heel and marched
back to the car. Too bad getting rid of Griffin would be as hard as removing
the stench from the crime scene. That smell permeated every inch of her and usually
lingered hours after.

Griffin’s solid presence suffocated the car, making concentration
harder. “Tell me how to contact your father.”

Griffin’s expression didn’t change, but the tension in the
car ratcheted up to an inferno. “That would be a mistake.”

“I need to know if they are involved, and if not, they need
to be made aware of the threat. Someone may be trying to stop the conclave.”

“They have their own checks and balances. Don’t get
involved.”

“You mean Randolph?” Her body chilled at the mention of his
name. He was like her, only his power had twisted and turned sinister. Her gut
still carried scars when she deflected his attempt to kill her by absorbing the
energy he wielded like a weapon.

It had retaliated by trying to eat her from the inside out.

All she got in return to her question was a look that was
both dead serious and tinged with fear. “You don’t want to tangle with him. He
enjoys gobbling up little girls like you.”

She shivered at his choice of words.

 Chapter Four

R
aven
pulled up to the house, practically spilling out of the car to get away from
Griffin. She slammed the door and strode up the walkway, the crunch of gravel under
her feet echoing in the silence. She’d only gone ten feet when a tingle at the
base of her spine pulled her up short.

She was being watched.

Very deliberately, she turned and scanned the landscape. Griffin
paused at her side. He glanced at her then followed the direction of her gaze
toward the tree line.

Nothing carried to her on the breeze.

No scents.

No sounds.

The foliage didn’t sir. Clouds scuttled past, leaving
pockets of darkness, almost like birds of prey circling. Despite all the
evidence to the contrary, she couldn’t pick out anything that should cause
alarm. She rubbed her arms as her wolf rose under her skin as it, too, sensed
something stalking them.

She reflexively reached for the electricity stored at her
core to scan their surroundings. The animals snarled, quickly rushing to the
surface in challenge. The tips of her fingers ached with the need to shed
claws.

Something was out there, hunting them on her land. Neither she
nor her animals appreciated the fact. When she got her hands on them, they
would realize their mistake. She marched toward the grove, determined to
eliminate anyone who thought to harm what was hers.

Griffin looped his arm about her waist and pulled her close until
her head was tucked into his neck. When she tried to bring up her knee, he tightened
his grip, squeezing the air from her lungs.

“Breathe, damn you.”

Raven sucked in a greedy gulp of air and inhaled the fresh
cut cedar scent of his wolf. Part of the mindless need to rent flesh from bone
lessened. Rational thoughts returned in fits and starts. If anything happened
to her, her people would be left vulnerable.

What caught her by surprise was the complete absence of
attraction to Griffin.

Her wolf rejected him.

To know that she wouldn’t mindlessly lust after any male in
the vicinity left her lightheaded. Then the danger of the situation came slamming
back to her.

Angered at her lack of control, she shoved away her wolf.
She dipped into her core, actively seeking the full use of her power for the
first time since the burnout a few days ago. Pure energy flooded her body. She
gritted her teeth as pain seared along her flesh.

“Son of a bitch.” Griffin’s arms flexed a second when his
muscles convulsed then he dropped his hold. When he pulled away, his eyes
glowed.

Instead of shutting down, the power continued to build until
the air crackled. Not wanting to draw more attention to herself, she
reluctantly slammed all that delicious power into the ground.

The earth, in a five-foot radius, dropped two inches at the
impact like a miniature crop circle, smoke rising like steam from the area. The
action left her stumbling to remain on her feet and vaguely nauseous. All the
power evaporated as if it had never been.

Whatever had been watching them vanished, and she could only
blame herself. She tried to use her animals to search the vicinity, but the only
thing she felt was Griffin’s wolf demanding freedom to hunt. His condition only
worsened as the very power she’d sank in the earth floated up to them, the
ground too saturated to hold it all. The raw energy scratched at her skin,
seeking entrance.

It had the opposite effect on Griffin.

It brought out his wolf. 

“Go.” The gruff word was a deep rumble from his chest.

She took a cautious step back, but hesitated at Griffin’s
obvious pain. His arms rippled as if he would shift then and there. “But–”  

“I’m going to find out who was spying on us. Unless you want
to see me in my skivvies, I suggest you leave.” So saying, Griffin tore his
shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground.

Raven gulped at the display of muscles. Though she felt no
desire for Griffin, she could appreciate a man built with all lean muscles and
tanned skin. While he still showed effects from his recent imprisonment, it was
the old scars covering every inch of his torso that made her flinch. For a
shifter to retain that much tissue damage after they’d healed, someone had to
have tried to skin him.  

When he popped open the first button of his fly, she inhaled
involuntarily to catch his scent. The energy around her fluctuating wildly,
slipping down her throat to sit like a warm glow heavy in her chest.

Not wanting to lose what little control she’d wrestled back,
unwilling to absorb more of the power into her abused body after such a
glorious failure to hold it all, she turned and hightailed it back to the
house. His mocking laugh rang in her ears, but she didn’t think he took any
pleasure in taunting her.

The house was thankfully silent when she entered, giving a
hum of welcome. The place was a home in the truest sense of the word. Part of
her power had spread to the house, changed it fundamentally with the ability to
store electricity.

The tug of war between the two sides of her soul left her
exhausted. She inhaled then coughed at her own smell, desperately needing a
shower before she tackled the next mess.

She plucked out the two chops holding her hair in place and
peeled off her gloves. She headed up the sweeping stairs, the steps curving
along the wall to the second floor to open up to a balcony. The grand open
spaces, large rambling hallways might have been modeled from late Victorian architecture,
but she and the old building suited each other.

She entered her room. The bed was still partially ruffled
from this morning’s fight with her dreams. The empty couch next to it mocked
her.

Jackson’s couch.

At night, alone in the darkness, she’d swear she could still
heard his breathing.

A cruel trick of her mind.

She kicked her shoes off and had her shirt half-unbuttoned
when she heard a noise that raised the hair on the back of her neck.

Instead of calling her animals, she reached for her core. She
needed power she could rely on, not a mindless beast that just wanted to kill. Strands
of energy slithered through her center, the blue cords springing forward at her
call to swarm over her.

Much too strong.

“Shit.” Electricity snaked down her arms, enveloping her
hands in a light glow. Ignoring the burning of heat under her skin, she inched along
the edges of the bedroom.

She cocked her head and listened. Then she heard it again.

Male voices.

Inside the house.

How had they gotten past Griffin...or had Griffin let them
in?

Following the sound, she cracked opened the bathroom door.

And stopped stock-still.

The room was torn apart, only the shower and sink remained
intact. Three men, shifters of some type, young and very fit, stood across from
her. They straightened abruptly at her entrance, acting shocked to see her as
if she’d walked into their bathroom.

They didn’t look threatening, more curious.

Their reaction tripped her up, and she had to wonder what
kind of picture she presented with her dark hair swirling around her shoulders,
the prominent streak of silver near her temple, and the gilded tips.

A freak even amongst the paranormals. 

She opened her mouth to demand answers when Taggert slammed
into the room behind her. Raven whirled to face the new threat, angling her
body to keep everyone in view. She lifted her hands, her powers amped and ready
to blast anyone who dared follow him.

He pulled up short when he saw her.

When no one entered behind him, she reluctantly dropped her
arms, but didn’t release her hold on the building energy. “Would someone please
tell me what the hell is going on here?”

“I tried to call you.” Taggert gestured toward her hip, but
his eyes were on her hair, his fingers twitching as if barely resisting the
urge to reach out and stroke the strands.

She groped for her phone, cursing to find she’d sucked the
energy out of the blasted thing.

Energy resistant her ass.

“We were hired to remodel the bathroom.” The voice was low
and respectful. The kid stared over her right shoulder, valiantly trying to
avoid peering at the gap in her shirt.

“On whose orders?” Fighting a blush, Raven quickly covered
the hint of exposed cleavage without removing her attention from the three men,
who had to be related if their near identical looks were anything to go by.

The oldest of the three carefully pulled a work order out of
his back pocket and handed it to her. He could be no more than forty, but she
was learning the shifter world was deceiving. “Mr. Jeffery Durant.”

“That son of a bitch.” Raven made no move to examine the
paper. The anger she’d been holding at bay built to a simmer, electricity crackling
around her.

She turned toward Taggert. His eyes widened, and he hurried
toward her, ushering her away from the others. That’s when she realized her own
eyes must be glowing blue as it did when her powers rode her hard. “Why the
hell would he demolish my bathroom?”

“I think Durant is taking you up on your offer to make
himself at home.” Taggert scratched near his eye but refused to look at her. “He’s
ordered a connecting door and an extra-large tub.”

“What?” That damn sneaky cat. But the image of Durant in the
tub, rising out of the water, boggled her mind and left her anger floundering. “But
all his crap is down the hall. Tell him to tear apart his own room if he must.”

“I believe he didn’t care for the room you’d selected for
him. He packed some stuff in there, but found other accommodations more to his
liking.”

Heat flushed her face when she realized he’d set himself up
in the master suite without saying anything to her. Too bad she didn’t know if
she was more angered or flattered that a man like Durant would go to such
lengths to lay claim to her.

If Taggert so much as snickered, she wouldn’t be responsible
for her actions.