“Rest assured, man,” Sir Rodney said, glaring at his best man before returning his angry gaze to Sasha and Hunter, “this was no accident, nor is it contagion, and it has nothing to do with her wanting privacy to flame. Someone was responsible and I want that person found!”

Sasha reached into her back pocket and held out her notebook to Sir Rodney, flipping to the page that she’d sketched the symbol on. “No offense… but you knew her body nude, I’m assuming. Did she have this mark on her before she died?”

Sir Rodney snatched the book and quickly handed it back to Sasha. “No!”

“What is it?” Sasha said in a soft voice as Sir Rodney turned away.

“Sorcery at its worst.”

Hunter pulled the jeep into the driveway and cut the ignition. As expected, all the lights were off in Penelope’s small trailer, but the outside light at the front door drew a flutter of moths. Sasha dabbed her temples and neck. Sticky June humidity made her clothes cling and a visible line of moisture was beginning to form on her tank top around her gun harness.

But the moment they got out of the car, both she and Hunter froze. The scent of charred flesh hung in the air as though an afterthought. Hunter approached a front window and forced it up an inch as Sasha covered him. He didn’t need to nod to tell her that her sense had been right; it smelled just like the crime scene they’d just left.

“Shit.” Hunter’s gaze narrowed as he headed for the front door with Sasha on his heels.

He opened the screen door and then pushed the front door open with ease. Sasha gave him a look; it wasn’t locked. The air conditioner was on full blast, circulating the putrid air within Penelope’s trailer. It was the same. Charred Phoenix mixed with something feral. But this time, no blood. Sasha’s wolf senses were keen in the darkness. She could see Hunter’s deep amber irises glow as he stalked through the small living space, and then suddenly, he stopped.

Sasha lowered her weapon for a moment as she looked down at the body at her feet. What did these two women do that got them murdered? Her mind was on fire and her grip tightened on the semiautomatic. If whatever did this was still here, she had a full clip of silver slugs for it.

“Stay with the body,” Hunter said in a low rumble, casing the rest of the trailer.

When he returned and clicked on the living room light, Sasha stooped down to fully examine the remains.

“Just like the other one,” Sasha said, standing after a moment to look around the cozy, well-kept trailer. “Nothing in the room to signify a struggle, no evidence of sulfur, just these strange symbols burned into the Phoenix’s belly. That’s all there is.”

“You and I both know there is no such thing as coincidence,” Hunter grumbled, staring down. “But, coincidentally, this Mythic being was the next one on our list to question… a close friend of the redhead. Add that,” Hunter said as he rolled his shoulders, “this charring is still fresh. We’re being stalked. I can feel it in my soul. Something is coming behind us, around us, herding us.” He sniffed the air and frowned.

“Yeah, I picked that up, too, when we were in the cellar. I’ve definitely never smelled it before.”

Hunter shook his head and stooped down to get a closer look. “At first I thought that it could have been the scent of fear coming from the Phoenix before she flamed… has a musty undertone to it. Feral, but not Werewolf or Vampire-just like at Ethan’s. This kicks my ass that I can’t place it.”

“Also not human… or any Fae scents I’ve come to learn.”

“Either it is owned by the killer or related to the aftermath of the burning.” Hunter studied the ashes and then stood.

“You might be right,” Sasha said, nodding. “I need to find out more about this symbol… if Sir Rodney hadn’t outright said sorcery, I would have thought that maybe it could have been something that showed up once a Phoenix flames for the last time. But the Fae know their magick, and if the man said sorcery was involved, I’ll take him at his word.”

“It could be a warning, a marker-something that says ‘keep out,’ ” Hunter said in a low, even rumble. “Tribesmen of all cultures mark territory with fearsome symbols.”

“Yeah…” Sasha said in a faraway voice. “But there’s a link we’re missing between these Phoenix deaths. Why go after the Phoenixes? They played no major role at the trials. I don’t get it. Who would want them dead? Why would Vamps have an axe to grind with them? Even though I can’t stand the rat bastards, it doesn’t completely add up.”

“Fresh air, distance, meditation-we must add this to our arsenal, Sasha,” Hunter said, placing a flat palm on her back. “Let us talk with Ethan and Sir Rodney. Maybe they can shed a little more light on this.”

She nodded and whipped out her cell phone, then cursed. “Damn… can’t get Sir Rod, he’s in the Sidhe. Cell phones don’t work there.” She let out a breath and placed the next call to Ethan. The conversation was brief-it was best to deliver bad news that way, since there was no delicate explanation available. Penelope was dead.

Hunter had already left her side to begin looking for anything they could go on. The living room offered no hints, nor did the small dinette area. Sasha found him going through the cutlery on the counter, sniffing the butcher’s block of knives.

“I don’t think she’d fight whatever was after her,” Sasha said with a half smile. “At least not in hand-to-hand combat. She wouldn’t defend herself like one of us would. We’ve gotta think like a Phoenix, not a Wolf.”

He nodded and raked his hair with his fingers, then stepped away from the counter, clearly frustrated. “Truth.”

Sasha sent her gaze around the tight confines and her line of vision landed on the refrigerator door. It held a small drugstore calendar under several fruit-inspired magnets. Quickly going to it, she read the neat shorthand: BO 12-5.

Digging in her pocket, Sasha produced the card she’d gotten from Desidera’s wallet. “How much you wanna bet BO twelve to five is her shift at the Blood Oasis from midnight to five AM, prime Vamp time?”

Hunter took the calendar off the refrigerator and flipped through it. “The entries go back several months. If you’re right, she was working there three to four nights a week.”

Sasha nodded, heading toward the bedroom, and then stopped at the dresser. She glanced at Hunter over her shoulder, motioning toward a jewelry tray. “Seems Penelope had some really nice admirers, either that or she made a fantastic salary at the Blood Oasis. This is the real stuff, not cubic zirconia.”

“She also had a Pixie friend,” Hunter said, lifting a small oval frame off the nightstand. He offered it to Sasha’s inspection as she walked over to take a closer look.

“Desidera, Penelope, and maybe a coworker?” Sasha studied the photo harder. “This is in the gardens at Chaya.”

“Then I guess the teahouse is definitely on the agenda to visit.”

Sasha and Hunter shared a look, and then she averted her gaze, trying to focus on getting the small picture out of the frame and into her pocket. It was obvious that neither of them wanted to discuss the teahouse, much less go there.

But the sound of a vehicle and quick footsteps put them on guard, evaporating any issues between them. By the time Ethan came through the front door, Hunter was in the living room and had taken a stance, and Sasha’s arms were outstretched, one palm under the gun butt, the other ready to pull the trigger.

“Sheesh, Ethan! You know better than to roll up on a couple of wolves in hunt mode! Damn! You could have gotten yourself hurt.”

Sasha uncocked her weapon and Hunter rolled his neck from side to side, clearly fighting adrenaline. When Ethan’s wife came to the screen door, Sasha blew a damp curl up from her forehead.