Demon's Fury: Part 1 of the Final Asylum Tales (The Asylum Tales series) by Jocelynn Drake Page A

filing the proper paperwork,” Sarah added wryly as she tucked her notepad in her pocket. She didn’t glance up at me, but I kept my face blank and my mouth shut. Most of us took an off-the-books client every once in a while for the extra money. It was highly illegal and could cost an artist his license if discovered, but we always told ourselves that we were careful. Too few of us every caught any trouble from it. But Kyle was proof that careful didn’t count for shit in this world.
    Serah’s narrowed eyes scanned the room as if she were searching for that one clue the other thirty people had missed when they traipsed through. “Nothing else?”
    My shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Sorry. I’m a tattoo artist, not a miracle worker.”
    “Then why don’t you give back that bloody napkin you grabbed out of the trash?” she said as her gaze rose to my face.
    My expression remained unchanged as I scrambled for a reply while silently cursing my clumsiness. I had been so focused on not getting caught by the men moving Kyle that I didn’t notice her return. Obviously becoming a thief was out of the question if the tattooing thing didn’t work out.
    “The police are already checking the blood samples from the tattoo,” she continued when I didn’t speak. “They say it’s a waste of time. The soap, ink, and potion have likely destroyed the DNA. They doubt they’ll even be able to identify the species of the killer.” When I still didn’t speak, she crossed her arms over her chest, making her look like an angry marshmallow because of her puffy winter coat. “Can you do better?”
    A smile finally lifted my lips. I could do better. I might not be able to get a clear image of the person, but I could get something. There was a spell or two I could use that had nothing to do with DNA.
    “Listen here, Powell,” she said, poking me in the chest with her index finger. “You’re not going after this sadistic fuck because your friend was killed. This is my case, my collar. Just give me the info.”
    It was interesting that she said “my” rather than TAPSS or the police. I wasn’t the only one with a personal interest in this. Sadly mine wasn’t about avenging Kyle’s death. Trixie’s tear-filled request was driving me. Of course, I didn’t think Serah’s reasoning figured justice for Kyle either. Poor Kyle. Killed by a client and no one’s promising justice in his name. It was tough being a tattoo artist in Low Town.
    “I’ve got a couple ideas. I can get back to you—”
    “Nope. Ain’t gonna happen.” She poked my sternum a second time to emphasize her point. “Where that sample goes, I go.”
    I hesitated, temptation gnawing at me. With magic, I could wipe her mind of this conversation. She’d forget and I’d be safe to pursue Kyle’s killer alone. But Serah could give me easy access to police information. Her memory could always be wiped after the killer was caught. And it wasn’t like I was bringing more danger into her life. She was enthusiastically seeking it out when she pursued this case.
    “Fine,” I said and started for the door.
    “Wait!” she called, following quickly on my heels. “That’s it? Fine?”
    “Yep.”
    “I’m beginning to understand why the vampires don’t like you,” she muttered, as we paused to pull off the little paper booties and we stepped back onto the sidewalk.
    The ambulance and most of the police cruisers were gone. Muddy lamplight washed over the lot rather than rotating red and blue lights, allowing the shadows to return to their proper homes. Smoke curled up from the few cars idling, while people huddled before the heating vents and discussed Kyle’s gruesome death. Or maybe they were all talking about their holiday plans, eager to forget about one man’s violent death.
    For a moment, I wondered if this very scene was waiting in my future. Between my dealings with the Towers, the local mafia, and the fact that I was a warlock trying to live