Chapter Ten
“Ready?”
Viktor studied Ant’s pale face in the pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains.
His mate looked smaller than usual, wrapped in one of Viktor’s shirts and wearing dark jeans that emphasized how thin he was.
Able stood close by Ant’s leg, ears forward and alert.
Viktor had already taken Able out quickly to do his business as Ant got himself ready.
“No,” Viktor said bluntly. “But that’s not going to stop you, so let’s get this done.”
He’d positioned himself at the connecting door, giving himself time to prepare.
Viktor was a creature of instincts, and his instincts about the case had been off from the start.
There was just something - something Viktor struggled to explain to his mate - about how Ant investigating another vampire felt so wrong to him.
Not because Viktor didn’t believe Claudius was guilty, because as far as he was concerned, the arrogant bastard definitely was.
But for Ant to witness what his kind was capable of made Viktor uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t put into words.
And that was all without his personal connection to Claudius.
We’ve just got to get this over and done with. The key turned smoothly in the lock. Viktor expected resistance - a magical ward or protection of some kind. But the door simply swung open on silent hinges.
The smell hit him first. Not blood. There was no blood, which was wrong on a visceral level that made his fangs ache. A vampire had fed here, drained a human completely, and the lack of a metallic tang in the air felt like an absence, as if someone had stolen the violence and left only the echo.
But the wrongness remained. Death was in the air, thick and cloying, mixed with fear so intense that Viktor’s vampire side stirred restlessly beneath his skin. The room had been the scene of a murder, and somehow those energies had soaked into the walls, floorboards, and furniture.
“Fuck,” Viktor muttered.
“I feel it, too.” Ant’s voice was steady. He stepped forward, but Viktor’s hand shot out to grip his shoulder.
“Wait.”
Ant paused, tilting his head in that way that meant he was listening. Actually listening, not just humoring Viktor’s protective instincts.
“Just...look first. Before you touch anything.”
If the energies could be ignored, the room itself was deceptively ordinary.
Viktor realized he already recognized the room.
It was another typical guest suite designed for human visitors, decorated in rich burgundies and dark wood, designed to impress.
A four-poster bed sat against one wall, neatly made.
The wardrobe stood closed. But it was the desk near the window that drew Viktor’s attention, and clearly Ant’s as well.
Papers were still scattered across the polished surface.
Financial documents, from what Viktor could see.
A laptop was on the desk, too, but it was closed, with its power cord dangling off the edge.
And there, precisely where the body had been photographed, was a simple ballpoint pen that lay on the desk blotter.
Ronald Finch had been working when he died.
He had still been holding that pen when his killer struck.
The thought sent ice through Viktor’s veins. Someone had entered the room either with Finch’s permission or at least fast enough that Finch didn’t have time to move away, and that same someone had gotten close enough to strike.
“I’m surprised the police didn’t collect anything except the body. That’s not typically how a crime scene is processed. Even the pen,” Ant murmured, echoing Viktor’s thoughts. “He didn’t drop it until...”
“He was holding it in the crime scene photographs. It would’ve been dislodged when the body was moved by the authorities, most likely.” Viktor did his best to keep his voice on a par with Ant’s.
“As you know, vampires are incredibly strong, and that is likely why there’re very few signs of disturbance.
Alternatively, Finch was enthralled, in which case he would’ve felt the bite, realized what was happening, but if he was under a thrall, he had no way of fighting back.
He wouldn’t have been able to move at all without permission, which is likely why he was still holding the pen. ”
Ant’s jaw tightened. “How long would it take for a thrall to take effect?”
“Seconds. Ten at most.” Viktor’s hands curled into fists. “Most people wouldn’t realize it was even happening until it was too late. Once in place, a human would feel everything that is happening to them, but be powerless to do anything about it.”
“I see.”
Ant stepped fully into the room, and Viktor forced himself to remain in the doorway. Don’t follow. Don’t crowd him. Stay back where you can protect him, but don’t interfere.
Every instinct screamed to stay close, to position himself between Ant and whatever violence soaked these walls. But Ant needed space to work. He needed to approach the scene the way he did any other, cataloging every detail before the vision overwhelmed rational thought.
Able followed Ant inside, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. The dog’s hackles were raised, a low, continuous growl rumbling in his chest. He didn’t like the room any more than Viktor did.
“Quiet, Able,” Ant said softly, one hand dropping to scratch behind Able’s ears. “I know this is ruffling your fur. But we have a job to do.”
Viktor watched as Ant circled the desk slowly, keeping his hands carefully away from any surfaces.
He noted the placement of the papers and the laptop, and paid particular attention to the pen.
Ant was likely looking for context clues, learning the story from the physical evidence before the magical one began.
“Ronald was left-handed,” Ant said. “The pen is on the left side of the desk, and the papers are arranged for someone reading from that angle. The laptop is closed, which suggests he was reviewing hard copy documents rather than working digitally.”
“That makes sense for an accountant.” Viktor’s voice came out rougher than intended. “A paper trail is harder to manipulate than digital records.”
“Exactly.” Ant crouched beside the desk, bringing himself eye-level with the scattered documents. “These are bank statements and lists of various transactions. He was putting the details of his case together.”
“A case that got him killed.”
“This scene has been left to indicate that, although I have no idea if the papers here are the same as the ones he was actually working on. But yes, I assume so.”
Viktor kept his satisfaction to himself. Ant had already decided Ronald Finch was murdered to silence him, and now he would prove it.
His vampiric side was struggling to the point that Viktor’s fangs ached in his gums. The predatory part of him that loved Ant beyond reason wanted to find whoever did the deed and tear them apart, even if it was only so Ant wouldn’t have to do the scene reading.
But Ant didn’t need a killer right now. He needed Viktor to be strong and calm…
which meant not transmitting rage and violence through their bond.
Get yourself under control, Viktor ordered himself. He’s depending on you.
Ant remained crouched, one hand resting on Able’s neck. The dog had stopped growling but remained tense, his entire focus on his handler. Waiting for the command.
“I’m going to begin now,” Ant said without looking back. “Remember - don’t touch me. No matter what happens.”
Viktor’s hands clenched on the doorframe. “I remember.”
“If I start to fall, Able will catch me. If I convulse, let him handle it. He’s trained for this.”
Convulse? That certainly hadn’t come up in conversation because Viktor would’ve remembered. “Ant…”
“If I start bleeding from my nose or ears, that’s within the parameters of normality for high-intensity readings.
Don’t panic.” Ant’s voice remained matter-of-fact.
As if he were reviewing case notes instead of describing potential seizures.
“The only time you should intervene is if I stop breathing for more than thirty seconds, or if my heart stops. Able will alert you if that happens.”
The casual mention of his mate’s heart stopping made Viktor’s vision flash red. His vampire surged forward, and he had to physically dig his fingers into the wood to keep from crossing the room.
“Viktor.” Ant finally turned, meeting his eyes. “I need you to stay calm. Can you do that?”
No. “Yes.”
“I can feel you through our bond. You’re not projecting much calm.”
“Sorry.” Viktor forced his breathing to slow and dragged his vampire back under control. For Ant. Stay calm for Ant. “Better?”
Ant studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Better. Thank you.”
He turned back to the desk. Positioned himself more carefully, his knees on the floor beside the chair where Ronald Finch had died. One hand remained on Able’s neck, fingers buried in the dog’s thick fur. The other hand lifted slowly, reaching toward the burgundy fabric of the desk chair.
Viktor’s entire body locked tight. He pushed calm through their bond - or tried to.
He forced himself to think about safe things, like Ant sleeping in on a Sunday morning or playing fetch with Able in the park.
Normal parts of his life with Ant that Viktor wasn’t about to lose all because of a vampire with sloppy feeding habits.
Ant’s fingers hovered an inch from the chair fabric.
Viktor could see his chest rising and falling in the measured rhythm that matched the breathing exercises Robert had told him about.
He’s preparing himself one last time. Then, without any warning, Ant touched the chair, and his eyes rolled back in his head.