I wished I had something to throw at him. I heard him laughing as he shut the front door behind him.

"I'll take the painting away," Carl said. "Now let me feed you chocolate before you kill me."

I gave him a small smile before following him into the kitchen.

"So, Peter finally went for it then?" He put on the kettle.

I took cups out of the press. "Oh, yeah."

"And what did you do?"

"Kinda let him."

"Gonna let him again?"

I bit my lip. Was I? "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"But do you want to?"

"I'm not made of stone, Carl. It's been a while."

"Yeah, we know. You've been getting progressively grumpier as the months go on," he teased.

"Shut up, or I'll start thinking about that painting again."

He laughed and finished making the tea before raiding the presses for chocolate. He found more than my fair share, but his kitchen likely resembled a sweet shop, too, no matter how much he liked to deny it.

My mood turned pensive. I knew nice men, decent men, like Carl and Shay, but they just didn't set a fire inside of me. People like Peter and Phoenix, both broken and dangerous in so many ways, were the ones who appealed to me.

"Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

Carl pushed a cup in front of me. "Now that's a loaded question."

"It's just do you think it's weird that I kind of gravitate toward flawed men? I mean, does that say something about me?"

"Isn't that a woman thing?" he asked lightly. "Trying to 'fix' men."

I threw a biscuit at him. "I'm being serious, Carl."

He sobered. "You always talk about your ex like he was perfect, how much you needed him back then. Well, maybe you want to be needed for a change. Maybe that makes you feel more powerful, more in control. Maybe you feel more whole if the person by your side is a little broken."

I stared at my cup morosely. I wasn't sure I liked the person Carl had just described.

"But what do I know?" he said breezily. "I've been known to make, oh, about a million bad choices when it comes to my love life."

"I'll never one-up that painting," I said to change the subject.

"Kind of the point. Now don't kill me, but what are you going to do about Peter? You need to either cut him off or go all in. He's not the fling type."

"I thought I cut him off already."

"Yeah, you did." He frowned. "With Peter, you'd probably have to cut his heart out to make him realise you're done with him."

"Bit harsh."

"Not literally. But seeing you move on with someone else might do it."

I squirmed. "Can we not? My nerves aren't up for this conversation tonight."

"No worries." He reached for a biscuit. "So, what was all that about teenage witches?"

"Ari, the girl who put protection on the place, also decided to prank me. Must be the week for it. She made it so I wouldn't find my way home."

"I'm kind of impressed." He shivered. "She's intense, though. I see her walking around the school like she's planning to blow the place up. Don't make enemies of scary teenage witches with chips on their shoulders; they grow up to be scary powerful witches who've lost their souls."

I needed more than chocolate to make me feel better about that.

I had wondered how Phoenix was going to sneak a ma.s.sive werewolf around with us, but aside from a couple of kids staring and pointing from across the road when we met up at the crime scene, Phoenix could have been walking an ordinary dog on the leash. The lead itself was just for show, but the sight of the werewolf straining against it made me uncomfortable. They had gone from mindless animals to people in my head, but the rest of the world appeared to be a few steps behind.

I greeted Icarus then nodded at Phoenix. He looked completely still as he waited for me.

"Feeling better?" Phoenix asked hesitantly.

"Let's just not talk about it." I jerked my chin toward the house. "This is it. The first body, the one I saw. It turned out to belong to the owner of the house. He lived alone, no witnesses."

He turned to stare at the building. "It's a nice house."

"I suppose," I said. "But the walls say, 'Keep out, world.'"

He shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with a little privacy. But it sounds like his walls didn't protect him."

"I know what that's like." At his puzzled look, I shook my head. "Never mind. Shall we go in?"

"Icarus is eager to begin." He moved ahead of me, opened the gate, then removed the leash from the werewolf's neck. Icarus bounded into the garden, and Phoenix followed. I took a quick look over my shoulder before joining them. I kept getting the feeling someone was watching me, but it was probably just the kids across the road, or a shifter. Not that I needed to worry with a werewolf on my team for the day.

Once the body had been removed and the crime scene cleared away, very little remained-only a dark, purpling stain on a patch of earth.

Icarus, however, found interest in the many scents in the garden. He eagerly sniffed the dark patch then abruptly ran off to the other end of the garden.

"Think he's picking up something?" I asked hopefully.

"It's hard to say." Phoenix frowned. "Describe the body to me."

I sucked in a breath. I really didn't want to remember. "It was messy." I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the scene forever etched into my memory. "It was quiet, very still. Shay's recruits were waiting for us when we got there. The wind wasn't strong, and the scents didn't hit me until I reached the gate. It was splattered with a little blood, but not enough that a human walking by would likely notice." I let out a shaky breath.

"What was the body like?" he asked softly, and I jumped, startled by how close to me he was.

I kept my eyes closed. "It was torn apart. There were a few chunks of flesh scattered around, but not enough to account for what was missing from the body. It was completely destroyed. The attack looked frenzied, and I think" I frowned. I hadn't noticed that at the time. "I think the body was dragged to the spot. From" I opened my eyes and pointed, realising Icarus was already sniffing around at a gate in that direction. "From over there, actually."

"Very good," Phoenix said, sounding pleased. "Shay told me they figured that out after you left. Beyond that gate is a small orchard, and it was there that they found a shed awash with blood. That's where the man was killed, violently but efficiently. They believe he died after the first strike to his heart. He wasn't eaten until after he was dead."

"When he was torn apart." I reached up my sleeve to rub the sudden goose b.u.mps on my skin. "You don't think somebody killed him and fed him to a werewolf, do you?"

"I didn't see the body, and there is n.o.body out there who can get close enough to the werewolves to find out if their teeth match the marks on the body."

"n.o.body but you."

His back stiffened. "May I see?"

I hesitated, feeling shy about the idea of him dipping into my memories. But if it helped him identify the bite marks, then perhaps it was the right thing to do.

"It's all right," he said. "I understand if-"

"No, it's fine." I sucked in a deep breath. "It might be important."

He held my gaze for a couple of seconds and gripped my arms. "You must relax. Your mind will fight me when your body is so stiff."

"Sorry. I'm just nervous."

He ran his hands up to my shoulders and squeezed. "It won't hurt. I just need to see the body. Can you show it to me? It might be easier for you if you feel in control."

I nodded, holding his gaze as he sank his fingers into my hair. I closed my eyes. He touched my scalp, a tingle of magic caressed my skin, then I felt him in my mind, a traveller clinging to me.

That wasn't so bad. I could do it. I thought of the memory and brought it to the forefront of my mind. I felt the mild breeze, caught the scent of blood, and paid more attention when Phoenix made me hang around in that memory. I wasn't a hunter, but surely a werewolf wouldn't have been tempted by scents on such a still day. And the lack of noise was disturbing-no birds, no rustling, nothing. How could someone have died so violently in such quiet without anyone hearing? Even the local wildlife must have been terrified. That didn't happen when the werewolves were around.

As I observed the wounds, paying attention to the bite marks, I felt Phoenix's triumph. They didn't belong to the werewolves. The paragon was going to be p.i.s.sed-and that made me think of the Eleven. I saw them sitting around me and panicked that I had shown Phoenix something that was supposed to be a secret. I ran from the memory and straight into one of Phoenix the first time he had delved into my memories. We had been close enough to kiss, and I had wanted to. Now he knows that. Memories switched as I desperately looked for something safe to remember. Why isn't he going away? Peter was kissing me, and- I broke away from Phoenix as he finally released me.

Mortified, I backed away from him. "Why didn't you let go?"

"I'm sorry." He stepped forward, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't do that on purpose. I swear it. You panicked, and I got stuck, and I" He shook his head. "I'll never touch your memories again. I promise you."

I covered my cheeks with my hands. "Let's just forget it. It's less embarra.s.sing that way."

He gave me a pained look. "You have nothing to be embarra.s.sed about, Ava."

I walked around him, unable to face him anymore. "At least we know for sure that we're not looking for a werewolf."

"We need proof that comes from an unbiased source," he said. "n.o.body's going to believe me when I say that a werewolf bite is shaped differently than the murderer's."

"Okay," I said, bucking up. "We'll just find more proof."

He hesitated. "We should probably check out the second murder site."

"What about the farmer?"

"Farmer?"

"At one of the Senate meetings, a farmer came and explained that his entire stock of dairy cows had been eaten. The Senate seemed to think the werewolves were the culprits, but it might be worth checking out."

"All right, then. There are two other crime scenes that we know of. The farm with the lost cattle, and the place where the murdered jogger was found. I'd like to speak to the farmer. He might be a witness."

"I've no idea where the farm is," I said.

"I'll have the address with one phone call. Are you still interested in accompanying me?"

I turned to face him. "I'm in this as much as you are. I want the murderer found, Regis gone, the shifters put back in their box, and everything else to go back to normal. I'm in, Phoenix."

He smiled. "Great. I rented a pickup so Icarus could ride in the back. It's holding well so far."

"You really know how to rea.s.sure a girl," I said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Icarus!" he called out. "Let's go!"

Icarus had been lying on the gra.s.s, looking bored. He hadn't picked up any clues. It was a pity he hadn't been at the crime scene on the day the body was found.

"They should bring werewolves to crime scenes," I remarked as we walked to the pickup. "It would make things so much easier."

"I'm not sure how well the police would adjust to having werewolves trampling their crime scenes."

We got into the truck. "Do you think the werewolves will ever live like shifters and only transform when they have to?" I babbled, thinking of anything to avoid discussing the awkward scene from before. "I mean, will there ever be a detective who just happens to be a werewolf?"

"The werewolves love their wolf form. Someday, perhaps one of the children who learn to fit in well enough will want a normal job," he said. "But not anytime soon."

He made a quick phone call to get the farm's location. "It's not so far," he told me. "We should be there in less than an hour."

I gazed out the window as we drove, lulled into sleepiness by the movement. We may have needed more evidence, but Phoenix's reaction to the bite marks had been real. The werewolves were innocent, and I was certain Esther was innocent, too. But I couldn't connect the two similar events, no matter how I looked at them.

I jumped when Phoenix woke me gently to tell me we had arrived. We were parked outside a large farmhouse, and as we left the car, the old man from the Senate meeting approached us, along with a younger man I took to be his son.

"Can I help you?" he asked. "Are you here to double-check the amounts?"

Phoenix shook his head. "Actually, we're here to investigate the crime."

"There's a werewolf in the back of their truck," the younger man said. "They brought one of those killers here, Dad."

"It wasn't the werewolves," I said sharply. "And we need him to help us track down who did this." I looked at the old man. "We want to stop this from ever happening again, but that won't happen if we continuously blame the wrong species just because it's convenient. May we please take our werewolf friend across your land to see if we can pick up clues, anything at all, that might lead us to the real killer."

The old man held my gaze for a moment before nodding.

"Dad," his son pleaded.

"n.o.body saw a werewolf commit a crime. These people saved us from being enslaved to vampires," the old man said. "Have you forgotten that already? The least we can do is give them permission to protect us again." He nodded at me. "Go ahead. Take as long as you need."

"Thank you," I said gratefully.

Much to the younger man's consternation, his father opened a gate for us and gave us a brief description of his land and the areas where they'd kept the cattle.