"Was someone else here?"

I closed the window, pulled the curtains close and turned to Irene. "Oh, you have no idea."

She closed the door behind her and locked it. I plopped on the couch, Irene put her datapad on the table and crossed her legs on the rug across from me. I told her everything that happened, except for the fact that Arthur had tried getting into my head and that I had shoved him out. I only told her he hurled me to the wall using his telekinesis.

Her forehead lined, "makes sense, I guess. He wants to know who's the human working alongside agents of the Order. You know, I can't believe he left you in one piece after the way you spoke to him. Have you lost your damn mind!"

I snorted, "don't worry, he seems to find me intriguing. So until he doesn't anymore, I'm safe," I paused, "relatively safe."

"And when you're no longer interested?" Irene asked. I shrugged.

"I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Minutes later we were driving in a black SUV. Her car was apparently being cleaned up.

Irene suddenly shook her head, "I still can't believe you talked like that, you really have a death wish," Irene said, "so he didn't bring his killer with him?"

"Killer?"

"That vampire in the office, the one who was about to rip your guts out of your body for being disrespectful."

"Okay, first, I wasn't being disrespectful. That guy isn't my boss, so I don't owe him any ass kissing."

"I can't believe you're referring to Arthur as that guy," Irene murmured in horrified despair.

"And no, he didn't bring his pet assassin," I continued. So the blond vampire was Charles the enforcer. Uncle Robert had told me all about Arthur's squad.

The Enforcer was a vampire made only a couple of centuries ago. What made him special was that he had been made by Arthur. Uncle Robert said that the Five no longer make new vampires, because all their progeny turns out extremely powerful. Having too many powerful vampires would mess with the balance of the world.

I wondered what made Charles the only exception to a rule that lasted centuries.

Anyway, the Enforcer was usually sent to deal with strong vampires who disobeyed the law, or who simply did something to annoy Arthur.

As a human, of course, I was not supposed to know all this. So I kept my mouth shut as Irene talked.

"I've never seen him before," she added, taking a smooth right a little too fast, "he's famous for hunting down powerful vampires that even agents of the Order can't handle."

"You're being very forthcoming with information," I said, because only yesterday she was tight lipped around me.

"It's not like you could do something with this information. And it's not really a secret, per say, people just don't talk much about Arthur's seconds." She paused, then shrugged, "and, I kind of like you. My instincts are never wrong about people, and they tell me you're trust-worthy."

Don't trust me too much. The knot of guilt appeared again, I looked out the window.

"Your wounds don't bother you?" Irene asked.

I cleared my throat, waving my hand dismissively, "I have a high pain tolerance. Besides, they're not that bad, it just seemed that way because of all the blood covering me. Most of which wasn't mine. What should I do with those clothes, by the way?" they were covered with demon blood, and needless to say, if some eager human got their hand on demon blood, they could so some very idiotic things, like summon more demons. Just what we needed.

"I'll take them with mine to the clerk when we get back, he takes care of things like that. He'll take them to the Order's incinerator."

"The Order has an incinerator?" I asked, "why?"

"For cases like this, if we want to get rid of dangerous things," she paused, "or beings."

Alrighty, then.

The car slowed down when we reached an almost deserted part of the city. Uninhabited warehouses and industrial buildings rose around us. The lamps on the streets were few and far in between, and the night swallowed anything not touched by the light, rendering only vague shapes visible. At least to my eyes.

One warehouse, however, on the end of the street, was bustling with activity. Cars parked next to it, portable flood lights banished the gloom around it, and people moved about with purpose. Irene parked the SUV behind an identical one and we got out.

"This is where they found the body," she said as we moved toward the building, "I read the brief report on my datapad after my shower, the victim is a twenty-nine year old woman of asian origins."

"How come we didn't hear anything about her disappearance? I thought you had alerts coming to the Order in case a disappearance or a kidnapping that fits the profile is reported?"

"She's a street walker," Irene said, "No one reported her missing. The human officers spoke to some of her colleagues, who said it was not unusual for her to disappear for a few days. It's only been four days since she was gone."

"He's killing them faster," I said.

Irene nodded, her voice tight with frustration, "I know, so if the woman kidnapped today is one of his victims- and she probably is- it means we have less than three days to find her."

We reached the warehouse. A few agents gave me confused looks. The one at the entrance looked like he wanted to say something, but when Irene flashed her Order badge he let us through without question.

The warehouse's high ceiling made the noise of the other agents and their machines sound louder than it actually was. The entire place was one open space, littered with dirt and rusted fallen debris, except for a corner that was divided from the rest of the warehouse by two walls made of piled up wooden crates. That was where the murderer had held his victim.

We walked to the makeshift room, every step taking us closer to the terror of an innocent woman in her final days. A horrific death no one deserves.

The sound of a camera flashing and people carefully searching through the crime scene was mere background noise when I took in the gory scene.

The only piece of furniture was a mattress pushed against the wall. The woman's body, or what was left of it, was manacled by handcuffs to some pipes sticking out of the wall.

The head was the only part of her body that had not been touched. Chunks of flesh and skin were left intact on random parts of her body, and her belly was an open cavity.

My gorge rose, I breathed through my mouth to avoid the stink of death. We walked closer to the bed, Irene covering her mouth and nose with the lapel of her jacket.

"Heart and liver are gone, like the other victims," I said, trying to have an analytical eye about the situation, otherwise I wouldn't be able to function.

"Intestines are all over the place," Irene said, her words barely discernible through the jacket. "His kills are getting messier, and he's moving faster, too. There is more leftover flesh in this victim than the first ones."

I noticed what she said. Crouching cautiously near the bed, I saw a bite mark on a chunk of flesh clinking to the lower half of the femur. "See this?" I asked Irene. She crouched down beside me, then straightened up and called, "Stephanie, did you get this?"

I looked at the woman holding the camera. A witch. She nodded, her wild brown curls dancing with the movement. "I got it, there are more like it in other places, too. I have a shot that's pretty clear, I think Ed might be able to get something out of it."

She showed us the screen of her camera. Irene and I crowded around her. The shot was a clear close up of a unique bite mark where the upper jaw seemed to have more than two fangs

"Ed is our demonology expert," Irene told me, frowning at the shot, "and you're right, Steph, this might enable us to narrow down the list of involved creatures. Thanks, Steph." Irene said. The witch smiled at us, her tan skin glowing under the portable spotlights the agents hung all over the place.

An hour or so later, after looking through the crime scene, Irene and I walked outside. A few deep breaths of the crisp night air cleansed my nose.

Irene waved at a man who was walking down the street toward us. With long, dark hair that hung past his waist, an equally dark beard and smooth copper colored skin, and the slightly uptilted eyes, his native american heritage was clear. Moving with the grace of a self assured predator, the bear shapeshifter was built exactly like his animal side. Broad shoulders, tall and heavy with muscle, he would be perfect as a battering ram.

"Little fox, what's up," he looked at me, now that he was closer, I realized his eyes weren't dark, but a hazel color, "so the rumors are true, a human."

I grinned. Irene replied, "yep."

Jason looked me up and down, furrowing his dark brows, "you look like a breeze will knock you over."

"Not a breeze. A strong gust of wind, maybe," I said. Jason grinned back, and it lightened his whole face.

"I think I'm gonna like you." he said with genuine warmth.

"So?" Irene said.

Jason's light expression vanished under the heavy gloom of his words, "the victim was discovered by some gang who come here a couple times a month for a meeting. We got people all around the city patrolling neighborhoods like these, motels and hotels are being monitored as well."

Irene frowned, "that's a lot of ground to cover."

"That's why we got human law enforcement working with us, since our numbers are stretched thin," he paused, "it seems like the director had a change of heart, he was so uptight about keeping the case under the radar that I wondered if we were ever gonna catch the damn killer."

Irene and I glanced at each other. We both knew it wasn't thanks to the director.

"What? You girls know something, don't you?" Jason said, looking between the two of us with open suspicion.

Irene waved her hand, "can't tell. So does the victim have any family?"

Jason's broad shoulders shrugged as he sighed heavily, but he replied, "None that we could find so far, she was abandoned at birth, grew up in foster homes down south. She worked as a prostitute since she was eighteen, probably younger. Moved to Portland about a year ago and kept mostly to herself."

"Her residence?"

"A small apartment she shared with a couple of other girls," Jason said, "our people are going through it right now. We got the other girls relocated to another apartment. Anyway, the good news is that we finally got an official warning out there, at least now it'll be harder for the sonofabitch to get his hands easily on women."

Irene and I both cringed.

"What?" asked Jason. Apparently he had no idea what had happened this afternoon, he was cooped up here the entire time.

Irene filled him in. He knew very colorful curse words.

"Well, shit," he said finally, "the bastard is getting bolder. All his past victims were snatched up in secret."

"His pattern is changing," I said, "from the way he kidnapped his victim today to the state of the victim here," I nodded to the warehouse, "it will make it even more difficult to catch him."

"Well, he's getting cocky, and cocky means reckless. So let's hope he makes a mistake."

I hoped he would. But I knew we couldn't count on it. The life of a human being was on the line and I wasn't going to wait for the bastard to get careless.

After leaving Jason, Irene and I went to get a look at the victim's apartment. A small two bedroom in a dingy building, the victim's belongings were so few that it took us very little time to go through all of it.

We then spoke to the girls who had shared an apartment with her. They were in a much nicer apartment, in a much nicer neighborhood, courtesy of the Order. Jason's words proved true, the victim kept mostly to herself, the other girls who also shared her line of work knew close to nothing about her.

"Alright," Irene said when we were finally back in my unit, "so if we don't have anything on the deceased victim, let's focus on the one still alive."

I leaned back on the couch, tapping furiously on my datapad, "it says here she's a thirty four year old single mom, working at a security company. Ah, so that's why her car was armored."

"Hmm, she must be really high in the company, then."

"She is," I read through the file, "she's been working with them for eleven years. So did anyone speak to her family?"

"Kit did," Irene said, her distaste of the man apparent in the way she spat his name, "her kids are with their grandparents."

I chewed on my lip for a while, "can we go talk to them in the morning? There's something..." I shook my head, "I feel that there's something we're missing, something so obvious."

"Sure, we'll drop by the grandparents' place tomorrow." Irene yawned, then mumbled sleepily, "I don't know about you, but I'm spent."

"I thought you immortals can function without sleep."

"When we're older," Irene stretched her arms up with a grunt, "I'm in my third decade, so I still need my beauty sleep."

"Hey, Jason called you a fox earlier." I said, arching a brow at her. She arched one brow back. "So? Does he know you're a nine-tailed fox?"

"Nope," she stood up, "he and most of the people who know me think I'm a rare breed of fox shapeshifter."

"A rare breed?" even as I asked, I understood why the specification.

"Yep, there are other fox shapeshifters, you know, though they're not common. My aura is very different from theirs. If someone had already met a fox shifter before, they would be able to tell I'm not one. So, I say I'm a rare breed."

That way no one commented on how she was different from other kinds of fox shifters.

After Irene left, I locked the place and showered again to rid my nose of the stench of death.

I went to sleep, but it didn't come easily. I turned and tossed on the bed, tormented by the day's events. The woman's scream as the demon lifted her up from the car echoed in my head.

Why didn't I think of using my magic? No matter if I became close to useless after using it, I should've at least tried, maybe it would've worked this time, maybe I could've controlled it.

But even as the thought crossed my mind, I knew it was unlikely. I would've burned the entire area to the ground, including the victim, including Irene and all the innocent bystanders around us. Still, the guilt was a smothering weight on my chest, and the color of blood was stitched to the back of my eyelids, it was all I could see, all I could think of.

So when sleep did finally come, it was no wonder it brought with it visions of another day drenched in red.

The blisters in my hands were bleeding. Given enough time they would heal. Meanwhile, I welcomed the pain in my palms and the soreness in my muscles, hoping it would chase away the hollowness that kept expanding inside of me.

It took me hours to dig up a grave deep enough to keep the scavengers away, another hour to wrap the body in a bed sheet I got from the cabin, then lay it at rest in the hole and pile earth on top of it.

With every move of the shovel, my heart splintered a bit more, until all I could feel as I stood by the final grave was a numbness that threatened to swallow me whole.

I turned around and faced the clearing. The scene failed to make me feel anything, bodies and limbs scattered all about. Blood and gore turning it into a painting of death. I walked through it all, aware of the curious predators, wary and smart enough to stay along the edge of the trees.

So many bodies, I didn't remember ending this many lives. But I had. And I didn't want to dig up a grave for every single one of them. Maybe that made me a horrible person, but I couldn't find it in me to care. At least I wouldn't leave their bodies for predators to prey on.

I looked up, the sky was brightening up. Soon the light of the day would break through, and I didn't want to see this under the sun again. I took a deep breath, a breath tainted with decay and rot, then did something that uncle Robert would be angry about.

But Uncle Robert was no longer. I had just buried his battered body under the dirt.

I met the amber eyes of a lynx lurking beyond the trees. I didn't want them to get hurt, I liked animals. Even with this fog of grief clouding my mind, I didn't want them to be hurt.

"Go," I called out loud, sinking every bit of authority in that word. "All of you, go."

Magic pulled out of me, and animals obeyed. They scrambled away. The calm forest suddenly flourished with activity. Paws, small and big, dashed away. Wings fluttered as birds flew. I waited for a long time for the surrounding area to clear of life, until I could no longer wait.

My skin started to glow, a light blue, almost white sheen covering every inch of me. Then I let loose of the magic that was trapped inside my body. I let it all go. Let it all burn.

Blue. All around me were blue flames licking at everything. My clothes disintegrated instantly, the grass under my feet disappeared, the bodies turning to ash. The flames didn't harm a hair on my body, though. They felt good, the warmth of them so gentle against my skin, as if aware of the pain shredding my heart to pieces. Then everything went black.

I woke up quietly. A strange sense of calm washed over me. Usually, after dreaming of that day, I would wake up doused in sweat, my heart beating loud and hard in my chest. Not today.

I looked at the window, the world outside was still coated in shades of blue and gray denoting the time just before dawn. I rubbed my breastbone, the sensation of the flames against my skin still fresh in my mind.

I had passed out in that clearing after expending my magic. All my magic. For some reason, once I start burning, I can't stop until all my magic burns out. When I had woken up then, everything in a two mile radius was burnt to a crisp. Trees, plants, everything green and alive had been reduced to ash.

Thankfully, uncle Robert had always picked up locations deep enough and in heavily forested areas, that even my flameouts weren't noticed.

The blue flames weren't like any other fire. They don't keep burning once my energy runs out, so there was no risk of a forest fire getting out of control. The problem, though, was exactly that. Once I let my magic loose, I can't control it, it continues to burn until I run out of magical energy and pass out, then I remain defenseless.

It had always been this way. Ever since I was small. The only difference was that as I got older, the magic reservoir grew with me. I was sure that if I let my magic flow out right now, the consequences would be on a much larger scale compared to when I was fourteen. But I couldn't know for sure because ever since that day, I never tried using that particular ability.

I left the bed and stretched out my sore body. It was only my second day on the job, but it felt like a year had gone by. Partly because I was doing things I'd never thought I'd do, like working amongst immortals in the Order, or meeting one of the Five. It's funny how life has a way of derailing our plans in the most unexpected of ways.

This case, though, had become a bit personal. I honestly no longer thought about what the director promised to give me for working on it. The thought of finding Martin Malone's contractor eleven years ago took a backseat in my mind.

I dressed, thinking how I should buy another change of clothes because I irreparably ruined yesterday's. Never settling down in one place meant having all my clothes on me. I preferred traveling lightweight and being ready to move at a moment's notice, so I'd always kept the bare minimum. Even now, all my belongings were carefully packed in my backpack.

I strapped on my weapons. I had cleaned them before going to bed despite how tired I was. Always have your weapons spotless before going to sleep, one of the important habits that uncle Robert had drilled into me, and one I had kept so far.

I had just made scrambled eggs and fried some sausage when the hairs on the back of my neck rose. My head whipped to the window, I took out a knife and tiptoed my way there, leaned on the wall next to it and peeked through the blinds.

"What the hell is he doing here?" I mumbled to myself. As if he heard me, the blond head tipped upward, and blue eyes met mine. I froze. We stared at each other for a long time until he raised his arm and tapped his wrist, mouthing, "you're late."

Great, just great. The Enforcer had graced us with his company this fine morning. When Arthur said we were to work with his office for this case, I didn't think this was what he had in mind. Irene would be just thrilled.

If I had to spend time with Arthur's lackey, I'd better be in shape. So I finished my breakfast, stashed a few energy bars in my pockets, and hit the door. Irene was locking her door, a granola bar half hanging off her mouth.

"Good morning, we have company," I told her.

She frowned, "Mhhm mmhhm hmm?"

I flicked the bar as we moved to the elevator. She moved her head out of the way before I could touch it, took a bite and chewed quickly, then, "what are you talking about?"

The elevator opened, a short, stocky man leaned on the wall. A vampire. Irene and I entered, he barely spared me a glance. I guessed by now news of the pesky human had travelled far and fast. Irene and I both leaned on another wall, neither wanting our back open to an unknown.

"Remember Arthur said we'd work directly under his watch?"

A choking sound. The vampire's eyes bulged out of their sockets. He looked at me like I was crazy. I raised my brows when he kept staring, and he moved his gaze away, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Irene was smothering a smile, "so?"

"Well, I guess that means we'll be working with one of his people."

"Who?"

I smiled, "I'll let you find out."

Irene said a very unlady-like word to describe me. The poor vampire couldn't get out of the elevator fast enough, he squeezed his body through the doors even before they fully opened, and sprinted across the lobby. We followed, close enough to see his reaction when he spotted Charles leaning casually on the SUV Irene and I rode yesterday.

The vampire looked like he wanted to head back into the building. Charles looked at him, nodding in greeting and the vampire almost bowed in return before he actually did double back inside the building. I didn't know if I should laugh or feel sorry for the man, he was terrified.

Irene's eyes widened upon spotting Charles, before she frowned, looking him up and down. He looked like a normal man hanging out, if you didn't notice the sword peeking out of his back or the gun strapped to his thigh, or the way his entire body was corded with muscles.

We stopped a distance from him. "Are you coming with us this morning?" Irene asked.

The vampire nodded, straightening from the car, "yes."

Irene fished out her keys from a pocket and shrugged, "alright, then."

He took a step toward us, holding his hand out, "I'll drive."

Irene narrowed her eyes, "no. My car, I'll drive."

"It's the Order's car," Charles growled out, which was technically true. But Irene was made of sterner stuff and she didn't dissolve into tears when the bad Enforcer scowled at her.

"Which is out under my name," she shot back, "You'll drive it over my dead body."

"We can arrange that," Charles said, and took another step closer.

"I'd like to see you try," Irene stepped forward, too.

Ookay, this was getting out of control. They were both busy glaring at each other, so I took the chance. I snatched the keys from Irene's hand and hurried to the driver seat. By the time I strapped up my seat belt and looked out the window at them, they both wore identical annoyed expressions aimed at me. I grinned and honked.

"Let's go, we have a lot to do," I called out.

Chalres recovered first and jumped in the backseat. Irene rode beside me, though her body was as stiff as mine. We didn't like having such a strong vampire behind us. The thought of him wanting to harm us was unreasonable at this point, though, so I ignored my wariness and drove on.

"Where to first?"

"The Order, Ed has something for us."

Ed, I remembered, was the demonology expert. Hope blossomed in my heart, maybe he'd have something useful. Something that could help us find the victim before it was too late.

___________________________

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