"Have you called in a dogcatcher?"

"Yep. But the vampire's bits would have turned to ash very soon after they hit the sunlight, and they could have been thrown in any direction from that window. It can wait."

I turned away from the window. "Any idea how these people are getting into the house?"

She shook her head. "Marshall can't find any obvious-or nonobvious-methods of entry. But they appear to be walking out the front door with their hauls."

That raised my eyebrows. "They would have to have been covered in blood, wouldn't they?"

"You'd think so. Cutting off someone's head and legs while he's alive would have created spurts of arterial spray, even in a vampire, but other than the pools of blood near the remains of his leg and neck, there's nothing."

"So they used a screen or something?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I doubt it. Arterial spray is something of a misnomer-it comes out with a lot of force when a main artery is cut. Even if they'd used a screen, there would have been residual drips."

"And they couldn't have used any sort of floor cover, because then we'd not have the blood pools."

"Exactly."

My gaze ran around the room, then came to rest again on the pools of blood underneath Garrison's body. They weren't nearly big enough for a body that had been bled out. "Maybe they were collecting the blood."

"Maybe. Hard to imagine anyone sitting still through that sort of thing, though, and they don't appear to have used restraints of any kind."

"Could it have been magic?" I asked, looking at Mel again. "Cole thought there might have been magical influences over at Armel's murder."

She frowned. "If it is, it's not one that I've smelled before. And it would have to be an extremely powerful magic to restrain someone when you're hacking him to pieces."

"Well, there's at least one thing that is obvious," I said grimly. "These people have a serious grievance against vampires."

And if they had, maybe Armel and Garrison weren't their first kills. Maybe they a history of it. It was certainly worth checking into.

"You'll get the report to me as soon as possible?"

She nodded. "Won't be tonight, though. The lab is severely backed up at the moment. Even the priority stuff is going to take longer than usual."

"As soon as you can, then. Thanks, Mel."

She nodded and got back to her fingerprinting. I dug my phone out of my pocket, ringing Jack as I headed back to the car.

"Anything?" he said.

"Just the same odd smell that I noticed at Armel's. Have the magi checked out Armel's yet?"

"They're there now."

"Which means we probably won't have an answer for a while yet." I gnawed at my lip as I opened the car. "Had another thought-"

"That's always dangerous."

Despite his dour tones, he was obviously getting back to some sort of normality if he could throw barbed remarks. Well, as normal as one could get after losing a longtime friend.

"It might be worth checking for similar murders in other states," I continued, "just to see if this is an established pattern. These murders are well practiced, Jack. We're dealing with professionals, not novices."

"Sal's already on that. There's nothing yet, but it's going to take awhile. You got anything else?"

I glanced at my watch. It was only four, and it wouldn't take me that long to get back to Fitzroy for my meeting with the street kids. But I was betting Joe would probably already be there, and if not, I'd wait. It was better than going back to the office and doing paperwork.

"I've got a meeting with a kid who knew the latest zombie victim at five."

"What about her parents?"

"She'd been living on the streets for years. I doubt the parents would be able to tell us anything useful about her." And I really didn't want to confront that sort of grief without the hope of getting something useful.

Jack grunted. "Once you finish there, concentrate on your report. I want it on my desk by the morning, Riley."

His tone added the "or else."

"You'll let me know if Cole's report comes in?"

"Yep."

"Thanks, boss."

I hung up and drove to Fitzroy. I got there with tons of time, and walked up to the Macca's on the corner to grab a burger and a shake, downing them both before heading back.

A shiny silver BMW had been parked in front of the building in my absence, and the car looked very conspicuous against the grime and age of the surrounding buildings. Obviously whoever owned the thing had no great love for it, because parking it in an area littered with street kids was nothing short of an invitation for robbery.

I lightly touched the hood as I walked by. Still warm, so it hadn't been parked here long. Inside, there was nothing more than a few folders to be seen. Maybe it belonged to the owner of these old buildings. Maybe the red tape surrounding the building plans had finally been removed, and the street kids were about to find themselves on the street again.

I walked through the old factory doors and drew in a breath as I headed for the stairs. Though I didn't expect it, there was one major difference in the aromas teasing the air.

The kids were no longer alone.

Kye was here.

Chapter Four

I walked up the stairs and through the wasteland of half-walls. The kids were holed up in the far corner again, and Kye was with them. Though his arms were crossed and his stance casual, there was an underlying tension in his shoulders that suggested he was ready to move at the slightest provocation.

"What the hell are you doing here, Kye? You were warned off the case."

"So you know this guy?" the kid with the bright blue eyes asked.

"He's not a guardian, if that's what you're asking."

"Never said I was." Kye's voice was deceptively mild. This man was a fight waiting to happen, and everyone in the room was aware of that fact.

"Then I don't have to talk to him?" the kid continued.

"No, you don't." I glanced at Kye. "Do I have to arrest your ass?"

He gave me a smile. My hormones did a happy little dance, but then they were easily amused.

"You can try."

I met and held his gaze. Something sparked deep in his amber eyes, something beyond the desire raised by the approaching night and the nearness of the full moon. Something that was ancient and basic, and honed deep into our wolf souls.

The need to fight. To prove worth.

I was challenging him, and the alpha within him wasn't liking it.

But I'd done a whole lot more than simply stare when he'd been protecting Patrin, so his reaction here was a little surprising.

Whatever the reason, the fact was that I didn't want to fight him. I might be stronger and faster, but I had a feeling Kye had a few nasty surprises of his own.

"Retreat to the stairs, Kye. This is Directorate business, and you shouldn't be here."

He'd hear from the stairs, we both knew that. It was a way for both of us to back down gracefully, avoiding a fight that would do neither of us any good.

He stared at me for a moment longer, then that odd spark was snuffed from his eyes. Desire lingered, however. Maybe he could control that no more than I could.

"This won't end here. You know that."

I didn't answer, simply because I wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to-the challenge, or the attraction. Either possibility was unsettling.

He turned and walked away. I glanced back at the kid. The same two kids stood behind him, but the scent of several others hovered in the nearby room, and a few of those were new.

"That was intense," the blue-eyed leader of this motley group said, his gaze flickering between me and Kye. "Felt like you two were about to come to blows."

Given that wasn't actually a question, there was no point in answering. "Where's Joe?"

"Where's the money?"

I smiled and dug the wad of cash out of my pocket. He tried to take it, but I grabbed his hand before it got anywhere near the cash.

His eyes widened slightly. "You're fast."

"Werewolves are. Produce Joe."

"How do I know you'll give me the money afterward?"

"You don't. But I will."

He considered me for a moment, obviously weighing his options. Then he made a motion and a door behind me opened.

"What do you want?" a new voice said.

I turned around. Joe was small and, like most of the kids here, on the thin side. He also had gray eyes that were absolutely startling against the darkness of his skin.

"Mike tells me you were friends with Kaz Michaels."

The kid's gaze slipped past me for a moment, getting, I suspected, the go-ahead from the boss. "Yeah. What of it?"

"Did you see her much the days before she died?"

"Sure. She bunked here, like me."

"Then was there anything different about her behavior in the days leading up to her death? Did anything unusual happen?"

He frowned. "Well, she met a lady about a job, which was odd because Kaz didn't really like to work."

I raised my eyebrows. "Was the woman from employment services?"

The kid behind me snorted. "Yeah, the government's so concerned about us living on the streets that they send employment gurus down here to help us."

"Then who?"

Joe shrugged. "She was just a lady. Well preserved, middle aged, wearing a blonde wig."

"A wig?"

"Yeah. There was a stray lock of brown hair coming out the back of it, like."

The kid was observant, but I guess they had to be. "So you were there as a spotter?"

"Yeah. Kaz never really trusted anybody."

And she was dead-probably because she did trust the wrong person. "What was the job?"

"Don't know. I wasn't close enough to hear, but she said later it was worth ten grand."

That raised my eyebrows. What the hell had the kid gotten herself into that she was promised such a large payout? To me, it immediately suggested something illegal-like the rumored underage slash-film ring that had apparently been running in Melbourne for a while now. But Kaz had been killed by a zombie, and I doubted the filmmakers would have the sort of power needed to raise the dead. If they did, they surely wouldn't be making money from sick underground films. They'd have the means to aim a lot higher.

"Wasn't she suspicious of being offered such a large sum of money?"

"All Kaz worried about was getting the money. Thought she could do so damn much with it." He shrugged.

"There's nothing else you can tell me about the woman that might help track her down?"

He frowned. "Well, she was posh, like. And she had a very manly voice."

Which could have simply meant she was wearing a voice modulator. "And would you recognize her if you saw her again?"

"Sure." He dug a hand into his pocket and withdrew a grimy piece of paper. "Did this up for you."

I accepted the paper and unfolded it. It was a hand-drawn picture of a woman with a hawkish nose and thin lips. I looked up at Joe, surprised. "This is really good."

He shrugged, like it meant nothing, but a quick flash of pleasure showed in his eyes. "I don't know anything else."

"Then thank you for your help." I turned around and handed the cash to Mike. "And thank you."

He leisurely counted the cash, then pocketed it without commenting on the extra twenty-five I'd given him. "Pleasure doing business with you, Riley."

"If you hear of anyone else being approached by a woman with fake blonde hair, you'll get back to me?" I handed him my card, and he pocketed it as easily as the money.

"If there's cash in it, sure."

"You really do drive a hard bargain."

"Hey, a kid has to live."

I suspected this kid would do rather well in whatever profession he set his mind to. Heaven help the police if he decided the criminal life was his thing.

I made my way back to the waiting Kye. He fell in step beside me and we silently made our way out of the building. I stopped at his BMW and turned to look at him. His golden skin was as warm as the sunshine, and the dark red of his hair ran with brighter highlights. He was, in many respects, a golden man with cold, cold eyes-even if those amber depths burned with a desire equal to anything I might be feeling.

The moon might be on the other side of the world at the moment, but she had a hell of a lot to answer for.

"Last warning, Kye. Stay away from this case or I'll report your presence to the Directorate."

His smile was dismissive. He might have heard me, but he wasn't believing me.

"Do you think this wig-wearing woman is the one we're after?"

"What did I just tell you?"

Amusement teased his lips. "Stay away. You didn't say don't discuss."

"It's a very fine point, and not one I'm going to get into. Just get into the car and leave."

His smile grew, even if it never entirely reached his eyes. "Answer me and I will."

I blew out a frustrated breath-although the frustration wasn't due so much to his obstinacy as it was to my own giddy reaction to something as silly as a smile.

"There's nothing to connect the wig-wearing woman with the woman who controlled the hellhounds and the zombie."

"Other than the fact that one woman contacted the kid, and another woman killed her."