“I … I think so.” The young man lifted his nose a little higher and blinked when a raindrop hit his forehead. His short brown hair looked almost black in this light, and his expression was wide-eyed and hopeful. God, he was young. Had she looked that fresh faced once? “It’s pretty faint, though.”
“Tell me what you’re smelling. Close your eyes. It’s easier to concentrate and focus your olfactory senses. An important part of the process is being able to match what you’re scenting now to something you scented earlier.”
“Okay.” He did as he was told and took a deep breath in through his nose. “Sea air from the sound. Garlic and oregano from a restaurant.”
“Good. What else?”
“I smell—” Kip gasped. “There it is! It’s coming from over there.”
“Describe it for me, please, as we head that way.”
“It’s coppery, of course, and slightly sweet. Not a sweetblood, though.” His laugh was almost giddy, and his dark eyes glittered with excitement, the pupils expanding in response to the adrenaline and scent of blood.
Yeah, she remembered the first time she’d gone on a real assignment after spending countless hours in class and in the scent labs. It had been an exhilarating feeling. And even after all these years, it still was.
“The blood in the alleyway was a human female,” he continued, a little breathless as they ran down the sidewalk. “Blood type AB, and I think it’s the same marker I’m smelling now.” He took another deep breath. “I can sense the warmth and her fear. I’m pretty sure she’s still alive.”
He smelled the victim’s fear? Although this was a skill she’d mastered some time ago, she sure as hell couldn’t detect any fear now. Gritting her teeth, she tucked away the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong with her. She’d deal with that later. Right now, she had a job to finish.
They slipped under the Post Alley sign and she flattened herself against the brick wall on one side of the entrance, motioning for Kip to do the same on the opposite side. The erratic beat of her heart slowed with relief as she slipped into Guardian mode now that they had a lock on the bastard.
Okay, time to wrap this thing up.
She held up one fist, indicating Kip should stay where he was. He hadn’t gone through any hand-to-hand combat training yet, so she didn’t want him to get much closer to the target. Agency rules were pretty specific in regard to what a rookie could do. The takedown was her responsibility.
She scanned the shadows and doorways as she edged closer to the smell, trying to get a visual. Careful not to touch the business end, she eased her red-tipped nails into a set of brass knuckles with silver spikes—not normally her weapon of choice, but she really needed to punch something—and crept around the iron railing of a stairwell. The coppery, slightly sweet scent intensified and her pupils dilated further.
The nagging voice of sensibility, her rule-abiding conscience that was never far away, told her she should’ve called for backup a while ago. But she didn’t want to admit to anyone she needed help. There were plenty within the Agency who believed she’d made it to Tracker only because of her father’s influence. She wasn’t about to prove them right by admitting she couldn’t handle a routine patrol call. No, she’d keep this matter to herself.
In the direction of one of the darkened doorways at the far end of the alley, she heard the scuffle of shoes on the wet pavement followed by a low, almost orgasmic moan.
Finally. You can run, but you can’t hide.
Kip had been right. The human was alive, but just barely. There wasn’t much time. After punching a code into her cell phone to request a pickup and a medic, she sprinted down the alley, not caring if the revert loser spotted her at this point. If he ran, she’d catch him.
But before she got to the far end, a side door banged open in front of her. She ducked behind a Dumpster right before the light from the doorway spilled out, spotlighting the alley as a train would a dark tunnel. An elderly woman in curlers and slippers shuffled out holding a plastic trash bag. But it was another figure, not more than ten feet away, that caught Lily’s attention. Hunched over a body, he raised his hands to shield his eyes from the sudden glare. But he didn’t cover his fangs, which dripped with his victim’s blood.
“Oh, my word! What in the world is—” The woman dropped the bag at her feet and the door slammed shut, trapping her outside. “Hon? Hon?” she called, not taking her eyes off the horror playing out in front of her.
Great. Just great. Guess I’ll have an audience.
Lily jumped over the trash bag, ignoring the woman’s gasp of surprise, and launched herself at the loser. Grabbing a handful of his hair, she yanked him away from the body. Her fist made such a satisfying sound when it connected with his jaw that she had to stop herself from doing it again just for the hell of it. Instead, she flung him onto the cobblestones. He landed at the feet of the old woman, who tried to scream but ended up in a coughing fit instead. Thank God for tiny miracles. She didn’t need any other human witnesses. One was enough.
The revert pushed himself up with one hand and defensively held up the other. Clearly, he wasn’t a fighter, just a run-of-the-mill loser—of which Seattle had plenty.
She repositioned the silver knuckle piece to the inside of her hand, the short spikes facing inward this time, and grabbed him around the neck. He shrieked and clawed at her hand when the metal pierced his skin. But it didn’t take long for the silver to do its thing and he became too weak to stand on his own. She restrained him with silver-lined handcuffs and dropped his ass to the ground.
As she took a step in the direction of the victim, the old woman’s coughing reminded her she needed to deal with secrecy issues before attending to collateral damage.
“Ma’am, it’s okay. I’m just going to—”
“Don’t—Don’t—Stay back.” The woman’s eyes widened even further in the dim light of the alley.
Lily ran the tip of her tongue over her fangs, which had stretched from her gums during the fight. Guess she couldn’t pass for a regular cop now. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you. I just need to—”
The woman screamed, and this time her voice found itself.
Lily was on her in an instant. She brushed a hand over the woman’s forehead, silencing her. “You saw two drunks in the alley. Nothing more.” Lily wrenched open the door as if it had never been locked. “Now get back to bed and stop this sleepwalking. Hon is waiting inside and wants a little lovin’ from you.”
The woman blinked a few times. A glassy, faraway look replaced the terror in her watery gray eyes. Clutching the front of her housecoat with a gnarled hand, she shuffled inside a little quicker than Lily had expected, a faint touch of pink coloring her cheeks. The door closed softly behind her.
Lily got to the victim just as two unmarked blackpanel vans turned into the alley and screeched to a stop. A medic with a crash kit and a member of the capture team stepped out and jogged toward her.
“Over here, fellas.” She pointed behind her and strode out of the alley, thoughts whirling.
For God’s sake, this was a simple assignment. What was going on with her? She glanced over her shoulder as Kip followed her into the night. She might as well be a trainee, too, not an elite Class-A Tracker for the Governing Council.
“Ms. DeGraff, why are you walking that way? Your car is parked down the hill over there.”
She tossed him the keys. “Go ahead and take it back to the field office for me. I need the fresh air. Good job tonight, by the way. We’ll review things in the classroom later.”
IF THE GUY GOING POSTAL on him in the hardware store hadn’t been Region Commander Tristan Santiago,