He cocked his head and leaned forward. “Shall we seal this understanding with a kiss?”

“I don’t think so.” She stepped out of reach, lifting her hands to hold him off. “We’ve had enough close contact for one night.”

Too late, Ari realized her mistake. Never give ground to a predator. He appeared beside her in a blink, his quickness catching her off guard. She hadn’t seen him move.

He didn’t touch her, but his lips were close to her ear as he whispered, “What are you afraid of, young witch? Surely not of me.” His magic was back, raising the hairs on Ari’s arms.

She turned her head away, not stepping back this time, but creating a little space. “I’m not afraid.” Her voice was steady. Good girl. This was just another test. It wasn’t the first time an Otherworlder had demanded she earn his respect. She could handle anything this vampire dished out. And he hadn’t tried to harm her. Not yet, anyway.

“Not afraid?” he repeated softly.

“No. Now back off. I know how to defend myself.” Maybe she couldn’t match his strength or speed or invade his mind. But Ari had the fire magic. Crimson fire that would turn him to charred bits. If he attacked, the oath of abstinence taken by every white witch didn’t count. Self-defense was a given. Plus she had the silver dagger. No rules about using it. Her fingers touched the dagger’s handle.

“Should we test your skills?” His voice was silky as velvet.

The scent of his exotic cologne floated around her face. A momentary distraction, until she remembered the fangs. Much too close to her throat.

“Is there some reason for this?” she asked, sounding more breathless than she liked. Her palm, now sweaty, closed on the hilt of the dagger.

“You are frightened. I can smell your fear.” Andreas sounded surprised. He sighed, eased back, and studied her face, as if seeking the answer to some unasked question. “You do not need the dagger. I shall bid you good night and go before my poor manners betray me again. Perhaps, but no… Until our next meeting, little witch.” He gave that brief, courtly bow again. “Another time,” he said with a slow smile.

And then he was gone. As swift and untraceable as the wind.

Hot air exploded from Ari’s throat. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. Not afraid? Who was she kidding. Andreas De Luca was dangerous, in more ways than one. The leashed power around him was almost a tangible thing. Wild energy still pulsed in the space where he stood moments before. She moved away, unwilling to remain so close to the remnants of a primitive power she didn’t comprehend.

Thinking back, Ari could have kicked herself for all the things she should have said and didn’t. She’d been outmaneuvered. The quick mood changes, charm to menace and back again, had kept her off balance. Why had he affected her so much? She’d dealt with vampires before. What was different? The magic, or something indefinable?

Ari had to admit, he was definitely a hottie. Not a thought she wanted to dwell on. He was a vampire. Nothing hot about that.

Shoving him from her thoughts, Ari took a quick survey of the clearing. He’d been right about one thing. She might have overdone the witch fire. The woods had taken significant damage. Broken limbs, scorched trunks. The smell of singed wood and fur still clung to the night air. She grimaced, wondering what the park custodian would make of it in the unforgiving light of day.

Ari’s frown deepened as she thought about the wolf, the vampire. A fleeting image of the future crossed her mind, drawing a shiver. She would see them both again. And that might not be a good thing.

Chapter Three

Emergency lights marred the night sky. Red, blue, yellow. Four days of quiet had passed since the wolf incident, but ten minutes ago Riverdale dispatch had notified Ari of a suspicious fatality in residential Olde Town, just five blocks from her apartment. The area was high on the bluffs, above the vampire entertainment clubs and the tourist district, and canopied by tall trees.

Human law enforcement officers and emergency vehicles already blocked the roadway. Two cops in blue uniforms guarded the front steps of the three-story, yellow-brick apartment building, built in the 1920s. Her ID got her an immediate pass.

She bypassed the elevator and climbed the stairs. She might have done so out of habit, a natural avoidance of enclosed spaces with no escape route, but she was also into predator thinking. They would choose a less public route to their prey. She was looking for signs of dark magic or any other Otherworld energy that would explain why she’d been called. Ari sniffed the air. The enclosed stairway was dim, not particularly clean, and reeked of stale cigarettes. She kept her hands clear of the grubby railing. Discarded gum and candy wrappers, an empty beer bottle, and smashed cigarette butts littered the steps. Normal clutter. By the time she passed the second floor exit, her witch senses triggered, sending a light pulse up and down her arms. Still no visible clues of what was ahead.

Ari pushed through the stairwell door and stopped, adjusting to the cloud of gloom that hung over the hallway. A violent death then.

Lieutenant Ryan Foster looked up from his notepad. Blond hair, big blue eyes, hunky build, would-be lover. So far, she wouldn’t. Unlike the patrol officers on the first floor, he wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Off-duty attire.

“Hey, Ryan,” she said, regaining her composure.

Instead of his usual grin, he frowned and pointed to the floor. “Watch your step. That’s my evidence.”

Ryan was Ari’s liaison to the human police force. They’d worked a couple of burglaries since June, and she’d met him several times while apprenticed to Yana, the former Guardian. They’d had drinks after a crime scene or two, and he’d made his interest in her obvious. His curt greeting today was out of character.

“I’m watching.” She stepped over the bloody spots. “What happened here?”

“Look for yourself.” Ryan jerked his head toward the open door on his right. His tone held a warning.

At first the scene looked normal enough. Pastel walls, worn wooden floors, cheap garage sale furniture. Typical apartment fare. As soon as Ari stepped across the threshold, the metallic smell of blood hit her hard. A red haze clouded her vision, and she could almost taste the sickening sweetness on her tongue. Bent over, her hands on her knees, she swallowed twice and fought the urge to back away. After a moment, she straightened and rounded the corner toward the kitchen. Table, chairs, mirrors, pictures—all had been churned by a giant eggbeater. Wherever she looked, objects were smashed and splintered, including the victim. The body of a young, human female, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, lay in a crumpled heap.

Ari blanched from this latest shock. Why the hell was a human child living in Olde Town? Surrounded by predators? A runaway maybe, doomed from the moment she put down her rent deposit. Ari shook her head to clear her mind and tamped down her witch senses.

A large jagged section of what had once been a Formica dining table hid much of the victim’s still form, and Ari stepped closer. The girl’s legs lay twisted awkwardly under her body, jeans and tube-top ripped by claws or teeth and stained with darkening blood. Red hair splayed around her face; her head flopped against her left shoulder. Something had twisted her neck with savage force and tossed her carelessly on the floor. She might have been a broken toy, a ragdoll no longer wanted. Except for the blood.

The reason for dispatch’s call was obvious. The scene shouted Otherworlder strength. Shape shifters, vampires, demons…the list of possibilities in the magic world was long.

“Neighbor heard a commotion and called it in.” Ryan had followed her into the room. “By the time the first officers arrived about 9:40, the apartment was empty. Except for the body. We’re canvassing the neighborhood, but so far no one’s admitted seeing anything. Big surprise, huh? Plenty heard it, but no one came out to see what was going on. Nobody wants to get involved.” Ryan grunted softly and glanced at his notebook. “Victim’s name is Angela Raymond. Lived here alone. The next door neighbor,” he jerked a thumb toward the apartment on the east, “says she has at least two boyfriends.”

“Do we know who they are?”

“Sort of.” He consulted his notes again. “Suspect one is a big, muscular vamp, name of Vince or Victor. Black hair, Caucasian. Looks to be in his thirties or forties. The other guy is human, also Caucasian, name unknown, age estimated at twenty, average build. Not much of a description on him. Maybe he’ll come forward on his own. Considering the condition of the room, I’m liking the vampire for this one.”

“Hmm.” Ari slipped on a pair of gloves and remained noncommittal. Ryan’s biases against certain magic races didn’t need encouragement. He was assigned to the Inter-Community Division (ICD) of the police department only because his brother was married to an elf. That didn’t mean Ryan liked vampires, demons, or werecreatures. Ari was thankful he tolerated witches.

They started working the scene. Although Ari tried to pick up any identifiable smells of Otherworld energy or the tingles associated with dark magic, her sensory system was overloaded by so much blood. As she helped Ryan sort through the mess, she spied a familiar pamphlet on the kitchen counter. Startled, she turned and peered at the girl, envisioning her in a blue Viva La Difference T-shirt.

“Ryan?”

The tone of Ari’s voice got his attention. He looked at her sharply.

“Can I see the victim’s face?”

“Sure. Photos already captured the scene.” He leaned down and pulled the hair away with a gloved hand. “Medical examiner’s been here. Thirty seconds and he was out the door.”

Ari studied the girl’s battered face and took a deep breath. Violent death was always hard to take, but she’d seen this victim alive. It made a difference.

“She was at my class Monday. And the human boyfriend too. At least the guy I saw fits the description.” Ari pointed to the counter. “That’s the flyer.”

“Are you sure it’s the same girl?” He walked toward her. “Any particular reason you remember them?”