“It’s not much of a trap if there’s no one inside.”

Rhoan glanced at me. “Just because we can’t detect any form of body heat doesn’t mean there’s nothing waiting.”

Like a spell of some kind. I shivered and rubbed my arms. “What did he say when he rang?”

“He gave us the name, and said for you to be in the house—alone—by two p.m. if we wish to save his next victim.”

I glanced at my watch again. “Then I’d better get moving. We’ve only got a few minutes left.”

“I know.” He studied me, expression worried. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

I touched his arm. “I’m fine. Azriel will be with me, and he can’t afford to let anything happen to me.”

Rhoan’s gaze went past me briefly. “Okay. But you’re wearing these, so I know what is going on.”

He pulled two blue stones out of his pocket, and I studied them with interest. “I’m gathering they’re not just earrings.”

“One is a camera, the other is a mic. Until this case is over, I want you to wear them.”

My gaze jumped to his. “Um, you know I love you and all, but there’s certain parts of my life I have no desire for you to see or hear.”

“And I’m sure I wouldn’t want to know about them, either.” Amusement briefly crinkled the corners of his gray eyes. “You can turn them off easily enough—you just press the left stone once. Two presses activates them again.”

“What about when I shower? Do I have to take them off?”

“No.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He pressed the two stones onto my earlobes. They had to be some form of nanotechnology, because the stones warmed the instant they touched my skin, and they clung to my earlobes without anything to actually secure them. He lightly squeezed the right stone, then stepped back. “Karl, you getting the picture?”

“Yeah,” the man inside the car said. “Sound, too.”

“Good.” His gaze came back to me. “At the first sign of trouble, I’ll be in there.”

“I’ll be fine. Really.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. He wasn’t worried about my ability to protect myself; he just didn’t want to see me hurt.

I headed across the road. My gaze swept the first building, but came to a halt at the security camera.

“Azriel, you might want to become invisible.”

He did so immediately, then said, You suspect he might have hacked into the security system?

Well, not him specifically if he’s blind, but someone working for him certainly could. It’s safer for me if they don’t know about you.

You’re considering your own safety? His mental tones held an edge. This has to be a first.

Sarcasm doesn’t become you, reaper. Even if it was true.

I walked down the side of the first house. Though I couldn’t see anyone, the curtains twitched, a clear indication that someone was watching.

It is the woman, Azriel commented. He hesitated, then added, Her thoughts are odd.

Odd how? I scanned the second house as it came into sight. There was another security camera perched on the side of this house and metal protection bars on the windows. Obviously Vonda and her sister didn’t trust either their neighbors or the neighborhood.

They are vacant. It is like she has nothing else to do but look out the window.

Maybe she hasn’t. Or maybe she’s been made to take something. I doubted her behavior was a coincidence, given the reason we were here.

I rounded the corner of the first house and headed for the front door of the second. The security door was thick and heavy, just like the bars on the windows. I twisted the handle and it opened, as did the wooden front door. My stomach began to churn. This was way too easy.

Possibly, Azriel said, and it took me a mental moment to remember what he was replying to.

What about the man and the child in that house? Are they okay? I pushed the door open with my fingertips. The air inside was fresh and cool, and ran with the scent of femininity.

They sleep. He paused. Deeply.

Something in the way he said that had me looking around before I remembered he wasn’t actually visible. What do you mean?

Just that it does not appear to be a natural form of sleep.

So they’re all drugged up? I took a cautious step inside.

I do not know much about drugs, but as I have said, this sleep is not natural.

And he didn’t like it, which no doubt meant there was something wrong. Something we should check out.

I stopped just inside the door, my bottom lip caught between my teeth as my gaze swept the room. The furnishings—though sparse—were of good quality. The main living area was L-shaped, with a kitchen tucked in the shorter end of the room. There was a hallway to my right, with a number of doors leading off it.

I couldn’t see anything out of place, nor could I hear anything or anyone. Which I guess wasn’t surprising; Azriel had already said there was no one here. I flexed my fingers, then headed into the hallway. A quick check revealed two bedrooms—one messier than the other—a bathroom, and a small laundry with a door leading out into an even smaller courtyard. There was nothing odd to be found, and no sense that Vonda had, in any way, feared for her life.

But then, neither had Dorothy Hendricks, and our hunter had been bleeding her to death here while burning a brand into her forehead on the astral plane.

I retreated back through the living room and went into the kitchen. It was small, neat, and filled with the latest in cookware—which was an odd thing for a vampire to have.

I crossed my arms and walked over to the front window, staring at the back of the first house. The back door was ajar and there was no security or wire door in place. Which seemed odd with a small child in the house, even if he was asleep.

Is the woman still standing where she was? I asked.

She has not moved since we appeared on the other side of the street.

Which was not normal behavior. Not for the mother of a small child. Sitting, I could understand. Even catching a nap. But simply standing there like a zombie? I’m sure looking after a young child made mothers the world over sometimes feel like the rambling dead, but this was definitely something stranger.

I swung around and headed for the front door. “Rhoan, I’m going to talk to the people in the first house, and see if they can tell me about Vonda’s recent movements.”

“Be careful.” His voice reverberated inside my earlobes and made me jump. I hadn’t actually realized the connection was two-way. Which meant he could tell me off if I did something wrong—just what I needed.

I crossed the little patch of sunshine between the two houses, then pressed my fingertips against the rear door and carefully opened it. The small laundry was filled with clothes—some in clean stacks on top of the washer, others in sorted piles on the floor. The door of the front loader was ajar, and half filled with dark clothing. She’d obviously been in the middle of loading when she’d decided to move into the living room and stare out the window.

Odder and odder.

I stepped over the piles and stopped at the next doorway. The only sound to be heard was the gentle ticking of a clock coming from the right. The air was rich with the scent of humanity, but underneath it ran something else—something sharper.

Fear.

Tension tightened through me. I flexed my shoulders, but it did as little as flexing my fingers had earlier. To the left was a hallway with several doors leading off it. If the layout of this house was similar to the other, then they’d be the bathroom and bedrooms. I hesitated, then padded softly to the first door and carefully pushed it open. A small child lay still and silent on a cot. For a moment I thought he was dead, and it felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Then I noted the slow rise and fall of his chest. Asleep, as Azriel had said. Whether it was natural or something else was the question that needed to be answered.

I closed the child’s bedroom door and stared at the next one. Though I had no doubt that the father would also be asleep, I couldn’t escape the notion that I had to check. That I had to confirm whether this sleep was natural.

Of course, if it was, I’d feel like a complete and utter idiot. Not to mention how furious he’d be about being woken by a complete stranger.

Trust your instincts, Azriel commented. There is something odd here, as I have said. Their minds have been . . . touched, although whether by drugs or telepathic intervention, I cannot say.

But you usually can sense it, so why not here? I walked to the other bedroom door and opened it. A fully clothed man lay stretched out on the queen-sized bed, his hands—resting on his chest—rising and falling with each breath.

If this is telepathic interference, it is only very minor, and that is often hard to catch or define.

Meaning what? That someone has simply forced them to sleep? Why in the hell would anyone want that?

He didn’t answer, but I really wasn’t expecting him to. I walked over to the bed and lightly touched the man’s shoulder. He didn’t react in any way.

I pinched his cheek. Nothing. I pinched harder, but the result was the same. This definitely wasn’t a natural sleep. “You seeing this, Rhoan?”

“Yeah. And I’m liking it a whole lot less. Check the third person.”

I spun and headed down to the kitchen. It was less tidy than Vonda’s, with baby bottles in various states of cleanliness scattered over the sink and a half-made sandwich sitting on the counter.

I kept walking into the living room. The woman was still standing at the side window, but as I entered, she slowly turned to face me.

Shock hit like a hammer, and I stopped.

Burned into the woman’s forehead was a raw and bleeding K-shaped mark.

It was the exact same mark that had been burned into Dorothy Hendricks’s forehead just before she’d died.

Chapter 9

My fingers twitched with the need to feel Amaya in my hands, but my sword was, for once, quiet. Whatever was happening here, she didn’t sense an immediate threat.