direction.
* * *
Stray stayed up late, broke into Kate’s CPS files to read the interviews. It seemed that Kate had too many needs, like the recurring nightmares, and weird things occurred around her.
He found a video on YouTube of ghost hunters who’d helped her foster family investigate for poltergeist activity and found a significant problem. One that disappeared when Kate moved out.
There was never a poltergeist. Kate was the cause of the problems. Stray was sure of it. And Jinx agreed with him after looking at the evidence.
Stray left the house that afternoon with a sense of purpose, like he’d known he’d find something. It was dangerous for him to be walking the streets the way he had, but they’d all agreed it would be more dangerous if he didn’t. Of all the Dires, he was the least known. A tall, lean Dire killing machine with the chiseled good looks of a model wrapped up in a hell of an attitude. The chip on his shoulder was more like a cement block. Had been for as long as he could remember and he didn’t see it changing anytime soon.
He managed to break into Kate’s file from three years earlier, which was about an assault she survived with no memory of her attacker, according to the police report. The accompanying picture made him sit up and take notice.
There were claw marks along her calf. Four of them. Made by a wolf.
He broke into a sweat as he stared at it. He wasn’t the only one who knew she was a witch, not by a long shot.
As if Kate somehow agreed, she called to him. He couldn’t explain how, but she was pulling at him. Needing him. It was a strong enough sense of panicked urgency to get him up and moving, out of the Dire mansion before dusk and speeding on his custom Harley that he’d tuned to be as sleek a predator as he was.
This could be a trap, but spells didn’t necessarily work on him. He’d tread carefully. Parked the bike in an alley and scented the person—woman—who needed him.
Kate lived here. He’d have known it even if he hadn’t swiped the address from her files. He broke into the back door from the alley and felt the building shaking. The lights in the hallway dimmed and the floorboards quaked.
Usually, when he smelled witch, he went in the other direction. Now he was following his nose like she had him on a leash. But he stopped momentarily, because his gut told him she’d left the building not that long ago.
She lived alone. The only person who would miss her would be Leo Shimmin.
This would be his only shot. Stray was shocked the trappers left her unprotected, but maybe they didn’t know what they had. Either that, or they figured the Dires had no clue as to Kate’s existence.
He still needed to know what had happened inside her apartment to make her run, so he pushed forward.
It wasn’t unlike last night’s hunt. But this time, his prey was entirely human and surprised as hell when he slammed through the door.
The men looked from the pages they held to Stray, and Stray didn’t hesitate. In seconds, he had them, backs against the wall, held by their necks, asking, “Where’s Kate?”
Neither man answered, and when Stray looked down at the page the man held in his hand, he realized it was a sketch—and that he was looking at a drawing of himself.
“Who are you working for?” he demanded, and Vice came up behind him. Stray had heard his Dire brother’s bike behind his, trailing him here. He’d never been more grateful to be watched over.
“Trappers?” Vice asked, and the scent of terror both men gave off confirmed it.
“Don’t know, but I’ve got to find Kate.”
Vice took the sketch and looked from it to Stray. “Nice picture. She managed to make you look good.”
“Fuck you,” Stray muttered as he let go of the men to grab the paper from Vice. He tucked it inside his jacket.
“Go ahead.” Vice cracked his knuckles as he stared at the two men who coughed and were attempting to actually run from Vice. “We’ll have fun
* * *
Stray stayed up late, broke into Kate’s CPS files to read the interviews. It seemed that Kate had too many needs, like the recurring nightmares, and weird things occurred around her.
He found a video on YouTube of ghost hunters who’d helped her foster family investigate for poltergeist activity and found a significant problem. One that disappeared when Kate moved out.
There was never a poltergeist. Kate was the cause of the problems. Stray was sure of it. And Jinx agreed with him after looking at the evidence.
Stray left the house that afternoon with a sense of purpose, like he’d known he’d find something. It was dangerous for him to be walking the streets the way he had, but they’d all agreed it would be more dangerous if he didn’t. Of all the Dires, he was the least known. A tall, lean Dire killing machine with the chiseled good looks of a model wrapped up in a hell of an attitude. The chip on his shoulder was more like a cement block. Had been for as long as he could remember and he didn’t see it changing anytime soon.
He managed to break into Kate’s file from three years earlier, which was about an assault she survived with no memory of her attacker, according to the police report. The accompanying picture made him sit up and take notice.
There were claw marks along her calf. Four of them. Made by a wolf.
He broke into a sweat as he stared at it. He wasn’t the only one who knew she was a witch, not by a long shot.
As if Kate somehow agreed, she called to him. He couldn’t explain how, but she was pulling at him. Needing him. It was a strong enough sense of panicked urgency to get him up and moving, out of the Dire mansion before dusk and speeding on his custom Harley that he’d tuned to be as sleek a predator as he was.
This could be a trap, but spells didn’t necessarily work on him. He’d tread carefully. Parked the bike in an alley and scented the person—woman—who needed him.
Kate lived here. He’d have known it even if he hadn’t swiped the address from her files. He broke into the back door from the alley and felt the building shaking. The lights in the hallway dimmed and the floorboards quaked.
Usually, when he smelled witch, he went in the other direction. Now he was following his nose like she had him on a leash. But he stopped momentarily, because his gut told him she’d left the building not that long ago.
She lived alone. The only person who would miss her would be Leo Shimmin.
This would be his only shot. Stray was shocked the trappers left her unprotected, but maybe they didn’t know what they had. Either that, or they figured the Dires had no clue as to Kate’s existence.
He still needed to know what had happened inside her apartment to make her run, so he pushed forward.
It wasn’t unlike last night’s hunt. But this time, his prey was entirely human and surprised as hell when he slammed through the door.
The men looked from the pages they held to Stray, and Stray didn’t hesitate. In seconds, he had them, backs against the wall, held by their necks, asking, “Where’s Kate?”
Neither man answered, and when Stray looked down at the page the man held in his hand, he realized it was a sketch—and that he was looking at a drawing of himself.
“Who are you working for?” he demanded, and Vice came up behind him. Stray had heard his Dire brother’s bike behind his, trailing him here. He’d never been more grateful to be watched over.
“Trappers?” Vice asked, and the scent of terror both men gave off confirmed it.
“Don’t know, but I’ve got to find Kate.”
Vice took the sketch and looked from it to Stray. “Nice picture. She managed to make you look good.”
“Fuck you,” Stray muttered as he let go of the men to grab the paper from Vice. He tucked it inside his jacket.
“Go ahead.” Vice cracked his knuckles as he stared at the two men who coughed and were attempting to actually run from Vice. “We’ll have fun
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