Okay, she admitted it; to make everything work out she’d stretched the truth back at the base. Had to throw the brass a bone. Said there was still some suspicious activity in the area that she and her squad needed to do reconnaissance on. She’d told that whopper well before Sir Rodney had sent a self-destructing Fae missive that he needed help with a delicate job. So, maybe it was a good thing after all, or even a little precognition, that she’d told the brass back at the base that New Orleans was a way station for black market supernatural activities. That was no news flash.

But it had put her in the right place at the right time to be here just before the ball, and just before this tragedy. Maybe she and Hunter could get this problem addressed before her human crew or any of Hunter’s men arrived. That was the hopeful thought.

Sasha rubbed the tension from her neck as she tried to glean clues from the site. Since war had already broken out on the streets in the paranormal community, she’d been able to convince her superior officers that it was advisable to keep a Paranormal Containment Unit peacekeeping presence here… just in case. Especially around Midsummer events. All that was true, just slightly exaggerated, so she thought.

Sheesh. Liar, liar pants on fire-now the BS she’d trumped up to get her and her team a little R &R had come to pass.

Sasha let out a quiet sigh heavily weighted with frustration. Who knew that Sir Rodney’s invitation to an over-the-top Fae bash was going to turn out to really be a work detail, a possible murder investigation at that? Clarissa and the guys were gonna have a cow. Hunter was already snarling. For that matter, so was she. Not because of doing a favor for Sir Rodney, he was a doll, but because someone had dared hurt a friend of her friend. It was like going against the pack; whoever did this would pay. Both she and Hunter were so pissed, the hair was standing up on the backs of their necks. She could only hope that was why they were quietly sniping at each other. But right now, none of that mattered. She had to focus.

The only saving grace was the fact that the poor girl had torched in her Phoenix form rather than her human form-which only made it a little less horrible. However, had it been the other way around, Sasha was sure that she might not have been able to look at the remains with investigative dispassion.

“I don’t understand,” Ethan finally said, beginning to pace. It was clear that the quiet tension was closing in on him and he needed the chatter for comfort, even though she and Hunter needed the quiet to think in order to piece together sketchy clues.

Ethan balled his small chubby fists at his sides while walking to and fro. “She never came back from the flames. The poor girl… it was awful!” He heaved in a shuddering sob and pressed a fist to his plump mouth. “She was so pretty… a redheaded beauty, that she was. My best waitress, a fantastic showgirl, my good friend-I just don’t understand.”

For a moment, Sasha couldn’t reply. Ethan was so upset that his Fae glamour was fading right before her. The tips of his ears were becoming more pointed and less human and his eyes had lost their warm brown hue, giving way to the multicolored Elfin irises she’d always found so fascinating. Even his frame was changing to the slighter Elf build, causing his pants and shirt to begin to sag.

“She was a lovely young woman, no one disliked her. Not even the Vampires found fault with her,” Ethan said with a thick swallow.

Sasha glanced up at Ethan, the word “Vampires” sticking in her mind and her craw. Hunter caught it, too, but said nothing. She moved toward Ethan with her sketch pad. Maybe he’d be able to tell her about any tattoos or strange body markings.

“Sasha,” Hunter called out from deeper in the cellar. “I’ve got something.”

Hustling over to where Hunter stood, Sasha crouched down and sniffed. It was feral and female, but nothing like she’d ever smelled before. “What is that?” she asked frowning. “It smells like Were, but not any kind of wolf, Shadow, or demon.” She shook her head. “I’ve never smelled this kind of Were before.”

Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “Neither have I.” Hunter scented the air again. “And there’s something more down here. Blood.”

Sasha watched intently as Hunter cocked his head, seeming to listen to the sudden stillness as though he could hear the past. It was always an amazing thing to witness, seeing his wolf senses awaken, seeing Hunter’s primal instincts ignite to scour the environment for clues. The Native American warrior battled with the Shadow Wolf Clan warrior just under the surface of Hunter’s skin. It was sexy as hell, that pivotal moment when his internal tracker flipped on with a subtle snap.

Sasha kept her eyes on Hunter, watching his line of vision spend itself around the tavern wine cellar. Six-foot-five inches of pure muscle packaged in a 220-pound ebony-hued human frame was ready to slip into a shadow and emerge pure wolf. The hair stood up on the back of his neck and ever so slightly his dark ponytail lengthened.

“What’s going on, Sasha?” Ethan said nervously, starting to come closer.

But Sasha held up her hand. “Just give us a moment, Ethan… keep your scent back and let Hunter work.”

After a moment, Hunter returned to her side. “There’s blood down here, but every time I think I’m closing in on it, the scent just dances away.”

“Does it belong to Desidera or to the Were we’re smelling?” Sasha replied with a frown.

Hunter shrugged, now seeming edgy. “I don’t know. I can’t get a lock on the scent in order to tell.”

Sasha rubbed the nape of her neck. They had a dead Phoenix, some type of female Were scent, and blood that may or may not belong to either one. Sasha turned and looked at the body again. It was possible that Desidera was attacked by a Were and, rather than going out by teeth, she decided to go out by flames. But that didn’t explain the symbol she’d found on the body or the lack of signs of a struggle. If a Were had come down here to attack, then there should have been scuff marks on the floor, things turned over. But the scene looked like Desidera simply lay down quietly on the floor and calmly turned to ash. She’d think suicide if all the other pieces weren’t getting in the way-namely, no note, an agreement to meet a lover after work, a feral female Were scent, and the elusive scent of blood far away from the body, even though there were no signs of struggle. Personally, she was leaning toward murder, although the why wasn’t making any sense and the who was completely unknown at this point.

Walking back over to Ethan, Sasha spoke in a gentle but firm tone. “Ethan, are there any Weres in the area that aren’t Wolves?”

Ethan’s gaze shot between Sasha and Hunter. “Why? What did you see down here?” When they didn’t answer, he mopped his damp brow with the back of his forearm. “Only the Serpentines and Reptilians,” he said quickly. “The Serpentines are primarily over at the Blood Oasis… those with alligator abilities stay deep within the swamplands.”

Hunter shook his head. “It wasn’t reptile. What I picked up on was mammal-warm-blooded.”

Ethan slumped with relief so fast that Sasha almost reached out to catch him, but Ethan caught his weight on the banister instead.

“You okay?” she asked, now holding him beneath his elbow. It wasn’t necessary, but her touch conveyed comfort to her distraught friend. She waited for Ethan to nod and then tried another line of questioning, just to be sure to rule out all possibilities. “Do Phoenixes ever have a type of contagion that makes it hard for them to transition from one form to the next?” Sasha briefly looked at Hunter, remembering all too well how that had happened to him.

“Not that I know of,” Ethan said in a solemn voice, staring at the ashes across the room. He shook his head and briefly closed his eyes. “She was such a nice person, truly a gem. This shouldn’t have happened to her.”