Page 16 of Silver Claw

I didn’t have to tell them to be ready.

I turned in a slow circle, noting the fluttering curtain across the street, the rumble of a vehicle about a block away, moving quietly toward us, and the muffled thump that came from inside the house we were there to investigate.

“Here come the morons who think they’re warriors,” Remy said, his voice a low growl. “One of these fine folks must’ve tipped them off.”

“We knew that was going to happen,” I said. “Joe, handle them.”

“No way, boss,” he told me. “I’m going in with you. Remy can kick their fool asses back down the road.”

“Yeah, I can,” Remy agreed.

I reached the rickety porch just as the pickup truck stopped in the street and half a dozen assholes spilled from it, armed with clubs, blades, and possibly guns, though not even the Pocket thugs wanted the police presence guns would bring. They were eager and ready for a fight.

They’d get more than they bargained for.

I left the thugs to Remy and hurried to the front door. “Joe,” I said. “Go to the back. If there’s a trail, follow it.”

“Kait, I’m not—”

I leveled a narrow-eyed stare at him. “Don’t do that. Not now, not ever. Nothing’s different, Joe.”

We both knew things were different, butIknew I was far from helpless, weak, or hobbled simply because my magic was gone. And my people needed to understand that.

He hesitated, but in the end, he raced around to the back of the house as I kicked in the locked door. Inside, the smell of blood was stronger than ever. For a few seconds, all I could do was stand there and let that awfulness overwhelm me.

Then I began to walk through the house, my blade up, my stare constantly moving, Remy’s fight loud through the busted door and thin walls. The place wasn’t big. There were small rooms, cluttered with furniture and garbage despite it being unoccupied.

I found the murder victims in the master bedroom.

They’d been killed there. I’d seen no trail of blood leading to the room, and also, there was simply too much blood inside the bedroom for any of it to have been spilled elsewhere.

Two women so covered with blood it was difficult to see their faces, both slashed to death. One of them lay in a bloody heap on the floor, a rope around her neck. She’d been hanging from the ceiling fan, which had broken. That explained the thump I’d heard.

The women had their hands bound behind their backs. Both were blonde.

And both were human.

I closed my eyes. “Sam,” I whispered. “Tell me you didn’t do this.”

He couldn’t have. Sam wasn’t in Jakeston. He wasn’t.

I called Rick. Reluctantly, almost afraid. If Sam was responsible for this…this carnage, then he was out of control. Again.

“Kait,” Rick said. “What’d you find?”

“Bring a team to Falton,” I told him. “Two murdered women. It’s bad, Rick.”

“Humans?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Do you sense magic or any kind of supernatural element at all?”

If there was no hint of a supernatural in the mix, Rick would be shut out by the human police. And he hadn’t moved departments so he could be shut out of murders in the city—supernatural or not.

“Maybe,” I said. I really wasn’t sure, though I did smell something…different. It may have been the unique and awful scent of a human serial killer. It might have been a supernatural. I just wasn’t sure. “It could be a demon.”

“Demons,” he said, and I could almost see his frown. “Really, Kait?”