the way she liked it. He cupped her neck with one hand, his thumb caressing her slender nape, his other hand stroking the small of her back. He gave her exactly what she yearned for, and her passion bloomed at his touch.
Her emotion tasted sickly sweet to Burr, an unpalatable mush compared to the deliciously sharp flavors of fear and pain.
But he reigned in his own desires and continued to indulge hers. He hated this stage of the game, but it was necessary. If he played his part with skill, the bitch would begin to crave him in her waking life as well as her dreams.
She would invite him into her psyche, laying herself open to him like a banquet. And then it would be her fears he fed from, instead of her filthy desires. He would touch her lithe, little body the way he wanted.
And that fragile neck of hers? He would enjoy watching her gasp and choke for air as he squeezed it.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Fat, round seagrape bushes dotted the yard of the small white-washed house. It was a throwback to Florida’s yesteryear, with its low, flat roof and dated jalousie shutters. But it was on prime real estate, tucked into a corner lot across the street from the pristine shores of Palm Beach proper.
Scarlett and Pat blinked to an inconspicuous spot further down the sidewalk. They started casually toward the property, like any other couple out for an evening stroll.
A silver Bentley convertible was parked beneath an old fashioned carport on the side of the house, but there were no other vehicles in sight. Yellow crime scene tape crossed the front door, fluttering softly in the breeze.
Pat paused to listen, murmuring a detection spell beneath his breath. “There’s no one inside,” he said after a moment.
“Here, put these on.” He pulled a thin pair of latex gloves and shoe covers from an inside pocket of his jacket and handed them to her. “The human lab techs have probably collected their evidence already. But just to be safe, when we blink in, don’t…”
“Touch anything, I know,” Scarlett finished for him, as she pulled on the latex. She was beginning to feel antsy and unsure about her insistence to come along. There was an uncomfortable aura about this place, as if the murdered woman’s horror and pain lingered in the air.
Pat’s gloved hand landed on her shoulder and she inhaled sharply. His eyes flickered to hers, heavy with concern.
“Let’s just get inside before someone sees us,” she muttered, blinking into the house before either of them could further question the wisdom of her doing so.
The place was as tiny as her cottage in the faerie realm. The floors and baseboards were done in distressed white wood that looked crisp and clean against walls painted a foamy sea-green. Beautiful fans of coral were mounted throughout the space as decorative sculptures.
A sliding glass door along the back wall opened onto a quaint patio garden with a canvas umbrella above a wicker table. Flowers bloomed neatly in baskets hanging from upright metal stands.
Pat nudged her and pointed to a small bookshelf built into one wall. Titles like Supernatural Realms and Shamanistic Healing populated its length.
“Come on,” Pat said, motioning toward the door to the bedroom. His voice fell flat against the silence.
Scarlett trailed behind him, stifling a gasp at the sudden, oppressive atmosphere when she crossed the threshold of the room.
“I’ve felt this at violent crime scenes before,” he remarked quietly. “This woman’s spirit is not yet at rest. It loiters here, searching for closure, instead of crossing over to the Sea of Souls.”
“Is there a way to speak with her?” Scarlett asked, taking measured, calming breaths.
Pat shook his head. “Not likely. Mediums are rare. And when we’ve used them in the past, the victims’ spirits were usually too terrified and confused to give us any intelligible information.”
“Do you smell that?” Scarlett asked.
Pat moved closer to the tousled bedcovers and sniffed. “Definitely a Morpheus potion. And it’s stronger by the bed.”
“You don’t think it’s one of the sidhe, do you?” Her chest tightened at the thought of one of her own people committing such terrible crimes.
“There’s no reason to assume that,” he assured her, though his eyes were troubled. “Anyone from our realm could get their hands on a Morpheus potion. I’m going to have to bring a mage in on this to tell for sure though. Between all six crime scenes, hopefully she can pick up on something that will tell us what kind of being we’re dealing with.”
Scarlett heard a faint click from the other room and her gaze flew to Pat’s. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.
She lifted her hand to summon her sword, and Pat grabbed it out of the air with a curt shake of his head. She jerked her fingers away from his, but before he could warn her to blink out, there was a man crouched in the doorway pointing a gun at them.
“FBI. Hands where I can see them,” he barked. “NOW!”
Pat lifted his palms in supplication and motioned for Scarlett to do the same. He could see that she was having trouble with the idea, and silently prayed that she didn’t do something stupid. Like summon a sword out of thin air in front of an armed human.
“Identify yourselves,” the agent demanded.
“Pat Sparrow, Palm Beach PD,” he replied calmly.
He hated impersonating the human police, especially to other police officers. But talking to their FBI might reveal useful information. Not to mention Pat recognized him from his online mug shot.
Dark skin, a fighter’s physique, and intelligent, piercing eyes beneath a neat skull trim. This was Scarlett’s Agent Derrington. And the temptation to bring them together was too much for him to resist. He hadn’t seen her show interest in a male in almost two hundred years.
“This is Scarlett Thresher.” He jerked his head toward Scarlett. “She’s a friend of mine with the Key Largo PD.”
It was obvious from the confusion on Derrington’s face that he recognized her from their front yard brawl.
“Listen man,” Pat continued, trying to create a plausible scenario before Scarlett said something to add to the agent’s suspicion. “I know we’re not supposed to be here, but I heard about it on my scanner and it’s less than a mile from my girlfriend’s place.
“Scarlett’s in town visiting and we decided to go for a walk and check it out. She said there was a murder a lot like this one down in Largo recently.”
Pat could practically see the wheels turning in Derrington’s mind as he weighed the probability of the story.
“How did you two get in here?”
Pat gave a chagrinned smile. “I don’t want to get anybody in trouble, but the back slider was unlocked. We figured the lab techs had already been through the place, but we were careful not to touch anything.” He waggled his gloved fingers at the FBI agent.
Derrington’s
