Green-Eyed Envy (13 page)

I made an appropriately sympathetic sound.

“Now then, the reason I wished to speak with you was to discuss the matter of security.”

I kept my expression politely interested. “Security? I do believe that aspect is being handled by the groom. He’s paying a pretty penny to make sure no crazies have access to any of the events. Especially considering all the threats that have poured in since the engagement announcement ran in the papers.” My poor Night Owls were going to have their hands full running down those threats to see if any might be credible enough to consider as potential suspects. Assuming their shift stayed as quiet as it had the past few evenings.

Victor made a sour face. “It amazes me that, in so many ways, the mortals are so much more progressive than we arcanes. Look how far they’ve come in racial relations over the past decades. We’ve had centuries to settle our differences, and yet we’re still so stuck in the past.”

“So you’re not one of those who feel that our two kinds shouldn’t mix?”

“Please. As a medical researcher, I place my faith as much in science as magic and far more on the present than the past. I say it’s time to let bygone feuds become just that. Bygone.”

“Indeed. Oh! What was it exactly you wanted to know about security?”

Victor frowned. “In light of the fact half of the guests will be Cats, I would like to hire on extra security as a wedding gift to Harper and Penn. Since you
are
the wedding planner, I wanted to let you know. I’d prefer not to worry the bride and groom, however.”

“You think it necessary to hire on yet more security?”

“I think it would be reckless not to. The security Penn has hired will be keeping an eye out for the more obvious psychos rather than focusing on someone more subtle, like a serial killer. The Bastai in Boston are a relatively small group compared to the Hounds. The odds that the killer may choose one of the wedding guests to strike out at are not overly low.”

He had a point. And the more eyes we had peeled open for danger, the better. “So who exactly did you have in mind? I would have to have complete faith in the security service you chose, of course.”

“Of course. I’ve had a new but excellent security force recommended to me. Alabastros is a private mercenary group much like Penn’s Shadowhounds. I’ll have them fax over their particulars to you. No, wait, why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow, and I can hand the information to you personally?” He leaned forward and swept my hand up in his own. “We can discuss their qualifications while getting to know each other in a more intimate setting—”

“Riss, you need to get rid of that bozo ASAP.”

I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to cuss Scott out soundly. Mustn’t
break my cover. Though I am going to break
someone
a little later.

Cass’s voice sounded a half beat after Scott’s, cluing me in to the fact Scott wasn’t just playing green-eyed monster. “Kale and Mahina just called in. They’ve found another body.”

NAUSEA HIT ME STRAIGHT IN THE GUT. NO need to ask whether or not the body belonged to a Cat. I just wondered which one of the men I’d met over the past week now lay in ruins in some run-down alleyway. And how to get rid of Don Juan gracefully.

Trinity took care of the second concern for me. She burst into the office, all smiles and apologies, babbling about some catastrophe going down. Victor took the hint immediately. He excused himself with a reminder that we really should “do lunch” sometime soon. The moment he was out of sight and sound, we scurried toward the parking lot and her shiny new Spyder. Even with panicked concern riding me, I had to take a moment to admire the sleek lines of electric-blue sex on wheels.

Once we buckled up, I asked the question I’d been fearing, “Do we know who it is yet?”

Trinity shook her head at the same time Cass spoke over the headset. “All Mahina said was we have another Cat corpse under a Dumpster just off Beacon Street.”

My heart sank because that told me all I needed to know. Only one of Harper’s exes both worked and played near Beacon Street, and only one had been arrogant enough to turn down any and all offers of protection. Rich and powerful—and now dead—Ward Rockefeller. Once word of
this
murder leaked out, all hell really would break loose. Not only was he a wealthy, well-connected arcane, but he also had blood ties to one of the most prominent mortal families in American history.

Well,
a morbid voice inside me whispered,
guess that means we can take him off the suspect list.
While part of me hated myself for thinking that, my more pragmatic side realized that if I didn’t hold on to some sense of humor in this situation, one of two things would happen. Either I would burn out like many other cops and have to quit the job that meant so much to me, or I would give in to the Rage burning in the back of my mind, rampaging through my list of suspects until I found the killer—all the while running the risk of turning Harpy

For now I had to focus on what I
could
do or I would drive myself nuts.

Trinity burned rubber
and
asphalt getting us from Back Bay to Beacon Hill in record time. Cass and Scott weren’t too far behind in the undercover van although they didn’t have a chance in hell of keeping up with Trin’s Porsche. Brakes squealed as she slammed to a stop just short of the yellow crime scene tape blocking off curious onlookers from a narrow alleyway. I’d had the sense to shift from my Sierra disguise into partial Fury form (leaving off only the wings) on the ride over, and Trinity yanked off her wig, fake hornrimmed glasses, and suit jacket before following me down the alley.

One thing leapt out at me as separating this scene from the others: I could tell with a single glance this had actually been the site of the attack rather than just a dumping ground for the body. I’d seen some awful crime scenes in my time, but this one made even me wince. A sizable pool of blood collected on the dirty concrete just off posh Beacon Street—the spot where the Cat had first been ambushed. Thick, crimson trails littered both the alleyway and the surrounding brick walls all the way from where we stood to a Dumpster several dozen feet in the distance. I picked my way along the ground carefully, keeping my eyes peeled for the slightest hint of evidence.

Kale knelt next to the battered Dumpster, high-powered flashlight trained underneath the half-ton container. The scattered lines of blood converged next to him and pointed the path to the body I presumed to be that of Ward Rockefeller. Reluctance to see him ripped to pieces like the others had me closing my eyes and cursing beneath my breath. It surprised me to feel sadness gripping me so tightly considering I hadn’t known Rockefeller well—and hadn’t liked what little I knew of him. Still, the thought of seeing the annoying but larger-than-life tycoon spread-eagle beneath the Dumpster like he was nothing more than trash himself just seemed horribly wrong.

I channeled tendrils of Rage, latching on to them like they were a security blanket. Sometimes that was the only way I could deal with the things I had to do. Hey, whatever worked, right? The only way I would be any use to Ward Rockefeller now was by pushing away my weaker emotions and focusing on the stronger ones that would help me find his killer.

Kale looked up when Trinity and I stopped just behind him. His long black hair, penchant for bright floral-print shirts, and
hey, brah
surfer demeanor caused many people to underestimate him, but when push came to shove, Kale was a damned fine police officer and no slouch in the fighting department. The only two (non-Fury) people I would trust more at my back during an investigation were Trinity and Scott.

He gave a small but sincere smile. “Hey, Chief, Nana-nana. You made some tracks to get here that fast.”

Trinity rolled her eyes, but I knew she enjoyed the Hawaiian nickname Kale had given her in honor of her new “baby.” Mahina, who came from a different island than her husband, pronounced the word more like “Lana-lana,” but either way, it made me give an inward shudder. I’d not yet met the spider I liked. Unless you counted the Porsche.

I crouched beside him, steeling myself for the sight to come. “What do we have?”

Just like that, Surfer Dude disappeared. “Caucasian male Bastai apparently beaten and bludgeoned to death, though we haven’t come across an obvious murder weapon. Mahina fished his wallet out of his pants pocket and ID’d him as thirty-eight-year-old Ward Rockefeller.” As expected. “The perp roughed this guy up way more than the others, and that’s saying something. MO seems a little off, too.”

Trinity gestured to the blood and guts surrounding us. “The killer did him here and left him rather than transporting the body. Could mean his usual plan got messed up somehow.”

I nodded. “Killer hears about Harper’s pending nuptials and goes berserk, maybe.”

“Maybe. Or he knew about the engagement party tonight and wanted to rain on their parade.”

“Hey, Kale. The tongue missing again?”

He motioned under the Dumpster. “We didn’t want to disturb the vic too much before you got here, other than ID’ing him. I’ll leave that determination up to you, Chief.”

“Gee, thanks. How thoughtful of you.”

Mahina walked up and laughed. “That’s my man for you. Considerate to a fault. He also has this thing about catnip.”

“What, that it smells worse than skunk musk?”

She grinned my way. “Cats don’t seem to mind it so much.”

I pointed under the Dumpster. “I think that a few would disagree with you.”

That statement had us all sobering and focusing our attention on what mattered. Examining the evidence in hopes we might find something to nail this bastard to the wall.

“Stand back,” I cautioned before summoning Nemesis and Nike to life. The twin serpents hissed and twined around my arms, one moment static tattoos painted across my skin and the next living, breathing reptiles whose chaotic thoughts flooded my mind. Their tongues flicked out, in, and then out again, and negative impressions bombarded me. Apparently they didn’t care for the smell of catnip any more than Kale or I did.
Tough!
I thought at them. Amusement replaced annoyance, and they responded to my request for enhanced strength.

Magic flowed through them and into me, and I grabbed hold of the half-ton Dumpster, lifted it straight up, and set it down a dozen feet from its previous resting spot. Cass and Scott finally put in their appearance. They ducked under the crime scene tape, Cass flashing his badge at uniforms as he went, and moved toward us. Somehow, just meeting Scott’s gaze for a moment gave me the strength to turn back to the body on the ground and do what needed doing.

Good gods,
where
did his face go?

Bile stung my throat, but I fought back the urge to throw up. The other Cats had been maimed and torn in many places, but their faces had still been recognizable. Ward’s quite simply wasn’t. The skin on his face hung in bloody tatters that made me think of shredded legal documents covered in spilled ink. His eyes . . . or make that eye, since one was missing . . . dangled from its socket by a slender cord of ligaments. I actually didn’t have to do anything to discover whether his tongue had been removed and replaced with catnip—his mouth had frozen wide open in terror, clearly revealing the pungent leaves stuffed inside that I could now smell clearly.

I turned from the horror and zeroed in on Mahina since she’d been the one to call us in. “Who found the body, and how did they find it under the Dumpster in the dark like that?”

She kept her voice businesslike. “Anonymous caller phoned it in from—big surprise—a pay phone just a few blocks away.”

“The killer.” She nodded, though I hadn’t made it a question. “How long ago?”

“Just over an hour. Dispatch sent a regular unit, but when they saw the violence of the crime scene and the fact the vic was in an alleyway, they asked Kale and me to take a look in case it was linked to the other Cat murders.”

Which, of course, it was.
You bloody son of a bitch. I’m going to stop you, one way or another.
Nemesis and Nike soothed me the only way Amphisbaena could, sending me mental pictures of the psycho cowering before us and covered in his own blood for a change. The Fury in me reveled in that image.

“All right, boys and girls, this asshole is really starting to piss me off. Nobody gets away with doing this to
our
people in
our own city
. ” I glanced at Scott. “Vic wants to hire extra arcane security for the wedding, and after this . . . I think he’s right.”

My Hound didn’t waste time arguing. “Absolutely right. My people can only do so much. Do you know the group he wants to hire?”

“He’s faxing the information over to me. They’re newly formed, but he said they came with excellent recommendations.”

“Good. Send the info my way once you get it. I’ll make sure they’re up to our standards.” One less thing for “Sierra” to worry about.

I glanced back at Mahina. “Any luck running down those threats that came in after the engagement announcement?”

She cleared her throat. “Most of them came from the typical arcane racists and don’t seem particularly credible.”

I arched a brow. “
Most
of them?”

She hesitated, pursing her lips before speaking up again. “Only one of them really sets off my creepy meter.” Something we in the MCU had come to respect greatly. “It’s the most coherent of the bunch and gives away details I’d expect only someone closely tied to either the bride or groom to know.”

“How’d it come in?”

“Not via telephone or e-mail like most of the others. Someone went to the trouble of cutting up newspaper letters old-school-style and sending it snail mail. Gonna take a lot more work to track down the sender.”

Great. An actual viable lead and of
course
it had to come in via the least traceable method. “You keep working that angle and let me know if I need to request more resources from Cappy.”