“Leon and Andy could both help; they’ve both got apprentices, for Christ’s sake. Anja would be more than happy to ask a few Weres to come out on patrol—it’ll be fun for them. Not to mention the Were population here in your own town. I want to get away.” He nodded, sharply, as if he was finished speaking. Then he continued. “I want all your attention, for a change.”

Were jealousy? Or something more? I glanced down at my right wrist, the scar covered and feeling flushed, full, ripe since I’d drawn on it. “Is this about—”

“It’s not about that goddamn bastard and his goddamn Monde. I just want you to take a vacation. With me.” He looked down at the tabletop, his long expressive fingers playing with the beer bottle. A ring of condensation marked the table, he moved the bottle slowly, blurring it, drawing it out. “Want to take you to meet my people.”

Holy shit. My heart gave a leap that felt like zero-gravity had suddenly kicked into effect. “You want me to… meet your people.” Christ, I sound stunned. I feel stunned.

He shot me a dark look from under his eyebrows, the charms in his hair stirring as he tilted his head. “That’s what I said.”

Oh, Lord. That was news. Big news, coming from a Were. I picked up my martini, downed half of it. It burned all the way down. “Sure.” I tried to sound casual. “I want to dig a little deeper in this murder. But I’ll call Andy and Leon tomorrow. Okay?”

His slow smile was a reward in itself. “You sure?”

As if I didn’t know anything about Weres. I took a deep breath. “I’d be honored to meet your people, baby. Nobody better try to bite me, though.”

“Aww, come on. I thought you liked that.” The smile widened as he settled back in the seat, vinyl creaking and rubbing against his coat. I slid my boot over, touched his under the table, and had to catch my breath when his eyes half-lidded. Just like a big sleepy cat.

“Only from you, catkin. Only from you.” I opened the folder again, looked down, and took the rest of my martini in one gulp, hoping Chas would come back soon with the food.

All of a sudden I couldn’t wait to get home.

I woke up with Saul’s heavy muscular arm around me so tight I could barely breathe, his face in my hair, and an ungodly racket right next to my ear. Late-afternoon sunlight came thick and golden through the blinds, and the sound echoed. One of the things about sleeping in a warehouse: the acoustics are screwed-up. Which means I can hear every sliding footstep, every insect in the walls… but it also means the phone’s ring turns into something like an air-raid siren. Especially when I’m tired.

Saul stirred slightly. I pushed his arm away and stretched, yawning, fumbled for the phone. His fingers slid over my ribs, warm and delicate for all their strength. I finally managed to grab the phone and hit the talk button. “Talk.” This had better be good.

The warehouse on Sarvedo Street was mine, a last gift from Mikhail. I’d been trained as a hunter by one of the best ever to take the field, and he’d left me this space; enough room for a fully equipped gym, a meditation space, a double kitchen for entertaining and cooking up supplies, and a nice big bedroom with plenty of space around the bed so I could be sure of nothing sneaking up on me. And since Saul had moved in, the place looked much better; he had a genius for finding thrift-store gems and bargain luxuries.

What can I say? Weres are domestic. He even does dishes.

The phone crackled in my ear. “Jill? It’s Monty. Wake up.”

Adrenaline slammed through me, cold and total. I curled up to a sitting position, Saul’s hand sliding free and the green cotton sheets rustling. “I’m up. What do you have?”

“We have another body.”

“Another…” So far, Monty, this discussion is frighteningly familiar. How many times have we had this little talk?

“Another dead hooker with all her guts and her eyes gone.”

My mind clicked into overdrive. “Where? And where’s the body?”

“Scene’s at Holmer and Fifteenth. Recero Park. They’re holding it for you, but it won’t be long before the press jackals—”

“Recero? I’ll be there in twenty. Hold the scene. Don’t move even if the press finds it, put a tent over the body, and leave it alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” But Monty didn’t hang up. “Jill, if you know anything—”

“Who found it?” Monty, I don’t have anything yet, and even if I did I wouldn’t tell you, dammit. You don’t want to know.

“Jogger. Being held at the scene. Medics are treating him for shock.”

“I’m on my way.” I hit the off button and bounced out of bed, heading for the bathroom at a dead run. My feet slapped the hardwood floor.

“Jill?” Saul’s voice, all sleepiness gone.

“Another murder,” I tossed back over my shoulder. “Get your coat.”

I took one look at the body and my gorge rose. It takes a lot to upset my stomach, but this managed to do it. I stood at the edge of the crumbling sidewalk and contemplated the gentle rolling grassy strip, about six feet wide, that was the very edge of Recero Park. The trees started with a vengeance, erupting with scrub brush and thick trunks as if the forest couldn’t wait to spill out; if it hadn’t been the beginning of winter there would have been more shade. My breath hung in foggy ribbons in front of my face.

This one lay on her back, sprawled in the shade below a large oak tree right off a jogging path. Her ribcage was cracked open, her face savaged and the empty sockets of her almost-denuded skull were already hosting flies even in this chilly weather. There wasn’t even enough hair left to mark her as female. I stood for a few moments, letting it sink in.

There was nothing left between the broken petals of her ribcage, and nothing left in her belly either. I could see the glaring gouges where something had ripped and gouged through the periosteum covering the lumbar vertebrae. Little shreds of what had to be her diaphragm hung from the broken arches of her ribs; her arms, like the other one’s, were terribly flayed. Her legs weren’t touched much, but they were oddly flattened, as if the bones had been crushed.

The femur’s an amazing bone; it takes a hell of a lot of stress per square inch with every walking step and even more while running. To crush and splinter a femur so slim slivers of bone poke out through the quads is… well, it takes a lot of strength.

Saul had gone pale. I didn’t blame him. He hung back at the very periphery of the makeshift tent that had been erected to shield the body from the press, who had just started to show up in droves.

I shut away the sound of people, slowly closing my awareness until I could hear the wind moving in the trees of Recero Park. Naked branches, most of them; there were evergreens further in the center of the park, but out here along the fringes it was scrub brush and sycamores, a pale beech standing like a sentinel at the corner of Fifteenth up to my left. Again, the body had been dumped less than ten feet from the street, just at the margin of the park. The sidewalk here was cracked and beaten; this was a forlorn little stretch of road. Across the street a dilapidated baseball diamond for Little League stretched behind its rattling chain link fence, its dugout set off to the side, first base right across the street. The parking lot was a field of gravel and weeds behind the dugout and the stands, which looked rickety enough to collapse the first time someone sat on them.

Not a lot of witnesses, despite it being broad daylight. And nobody to hear her if she screamed. Assuming she was killed here. No, there’s not enough blood.

The trees rustled.

Dumped here. Why? Anything that causes this much damage usually eats what it takes; why take the eyes? What is this?