Chapter 3
Isa
Crouched next to Leo’s sprawled body, Isa pivoted so fast she almost landed on her ass while her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest. She barely caught herself with a shaky hand on the nearby coffee table as she faced down the one person she had no desire to see that night.
With sickening sweetness, she said, “Good morning to you, too, sunshine.”
“Don’t be cute, Isa.” Locke glared at her as he walked inside and carefully closed then locked the door behind him.
Afraid I’m going to run, are you?
Instead of letting her mouth run free, she kept a wary eye on him as he stalked closer, the air around him nearly vibrating with that fascinating tension he carried like a shadow.
He stopped next to Leo’s outstretched hand, his unusually light eyes shifting from the body to her. “What did you do?”
“Not a damn thing.” She kept her voice cool and tried to ignore the sting of his accusation. Of course he thought she was at fault. She rose slowly, relieved when her legs didn’t fold. “I found him like this.”
A long moment passed as he stared at her, but she refused to look away first, a reaction that hadn’t changed since the first moment he’d walked into Wonderland and hit her radar.
To stand unmoving under that intense, predatory stare was a personal challenge, but she managed another win when he finally shook his head, sank into a crouch, and turned his attention back to the body between them.
“I’m assuming this is Starini,” he said.
“Who?” Still rattled by the scene she’d walked into and the fact that her magic was acting like an overeager puppy wanting to play, she had to take a second to make the connection. “Oh, you mean Leo?”
“Is Leo the body on the floor?” Locke asked, his strained patience laced with sarcasm.
The familiar tone would normally set her hackles on end, but tonight, they barely quivered, too exhausted by her earlier emotional roller coaster ride with Kelly. “Well, I didn’t check his ID, but I’m feeling like it’s a safe assumption.”
“Smart-ass,” he muttered.
“Better than a dumbass,” she shot back so fast it earned her a serious side-eye. She turned away, hiding a wince. How he managed to always reduce her to a bratty teenager, she’d never understand. It seemed to be his superpower. “Why are you hunting him?”
“Who said I was?”
“Now who’s the smart-ass?” She rubbed her arms, trying to get the hairs standing on end to chill out. It wasn’t working.
“You okay?”
She looked over shoulder to find him watching her. “I’m fine,” she lied as she put a little more space between her and the temptation residual death presented.
That was the thing about being a Reaper.
The minute she got near a recent death event, the urge to play with the lingering essence became nearly impossible to ignore.
At the moment, the dark whispers were easy to drown out—all she had to do was focus on how irritating it was to deal with Locke.
But that wouldn’t hold them back for long.
She played with the scythe charm on her necklace as she stepped around the bloodied knife and moved to the island that separated the living room and the kitchen.
One of the barstools was tipped over, and a hefty butcher knife lay under its padded back, its blade clean.
On the island’s stone surface, the block knife holder lay on its side, a couple of blades still gamely holding on.
She rounded the island’s far end and spotted the shattered glass on the floor near the fridge.
One of the stainless-steel doors sported a dent, confirming that Kelly had a hell of a throwing arm.
In the area between the island and the stove, the glass pieces were mixed with smears of blood and water, marring the laminated wood floor.
More blood marked the lower white cabinets, along with scorch marks.
Letting go of her charm, Isa skirted the mess on the floor and got close enough to brush her finger carefully over one of the burns.
The surface was smooth, but her finger came back coated with soot.
Those aren’t from cooking.
If Kelly was right and Leo was a muni, that kind of non-damage to the cabinet’s surface shouldn’t exist. Only a skilled fire mage could manage that kind of control. Straightening, she wiped her finger on her jeans.
She nearly jumped when she turned around to find Locke standing at the end of the island, watching her. “What?”
He leaned his hip against the island and folded his arms. “You going to tell me what happened here?”
“Only if you tell me why you showed up.” If Locke was after Leo, then Kelly’s problems might be bigger than Isa had anticipated.
There was a long moment of quiet before Locke grudgingly admitted, “I’m tracking a missing person. Leo was the one of the last people seen with them.”
A jumble of questions clamored for attention. She picked one. “Who’s missing?”
He shook his head. “Nope, I answered yours. Time for you to answer mine.” He glided closer, deliberately invading her space. “What are you doing here?”
Her pulse, which had finally leveled off, kicked up again, this time with something a lot more dangerous than nerves.
She could shove him away, but in the deepest pit of her consciousness, she knew touching him would be a huge mistake.
Instead, she fisted her hands, lifted her chin, and gathered her irritation into an impenetrable shield.
“There was a situation earlier, and Leo was involved. I was coming to talk to him.”
“Talk?” he asked in disbelief. “Talking doesn’t lead to that.” He motioned back to where Leo lay.
She kept her gaze on him. “I told you, I found him like that.”
“And you didn’t call the police?”
His question held just enough condescension to trigger her temper. “Not like I had a chance, considering you barged in just after I got here.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “But hey, I can fix that, and we can both spend the next couple of hours answering uncomfortable questions.”
“Wouldn’t be uncomfortable for me.”
Of course not, because he’s part of the all-powerful Cordova Family. The urge to snarl in frustration was so strong it escaped her clenched teeth in a feral hiss as she pushed past him.
She didn’t get far. He caught her arm in a gentle but firm grip. “Tell me about the situation.”
She was already shaking her head. “No.”
His eyes narrowed at her bitten-out refusal. “What are you hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Okay, then who are you protecting?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Des?”
She snorted as she tested his hold. “Please. Des doesn’t need my protection.”
“Then who?”
Recognizing that he wasn’t going to drop this, she reluctantly said, “One of my servers.”
He finally let her go. “So your server killed him?”
Seriously? He’s a damn dog with a bone. She shouldn’t have been surprised, since she was dealing with a Hound.
“I don’t think so,” she said as she remembered Kelly’s horrified shock.
Initially, when she first walked in, she thought it was highly likely that Kelly had killed him, but…
unable to resist the pull any longer, she inched toward Leo’s body.
Her magic shivered in anticipation, like a carrion bird fluffing its feathers before a feast. She ruthlessly reined it in and focused on the physical evidence.
In the kitchen were scattered drops of blood, likely from where Kelly had cut herself on the broken glass.
On the other side of the island and trailing into the living room were more crimson smears but nothing big enough to indicate a fatal wound.
The bloodied knife she’d stepped over earlier lay between the kitchen and living room.
The four-inch blade wouldn’t have offered much protection if Leo was tossing fireballs at the panicked girl.
If Kelly had killed him, as Isa feared, there should be a blood pool somewhere nearby, but there wasn’t.
That left Isa with serious doubts that Kelly killed anyone, so she didn’t want to share the girl’s name with Locke. Especially since she had no idea why the Cordova Family was interested in Leo.
She turned back to the man watching her and told a partial lie. “According to her, he was still breathing when she ran out of here.”
There was a disconcerting glint in his ice-blue eyes, but whatever he was thinking was well hidden. He shook his head. “Is she okay—your server?”
Ignoring how his obvious concern made her heart twinge wistfully, Isa gave a slow nod. “She’s going to need stitches and some serious time with an ice pack.” And probably a good therapist.
He folded his arms over his broad chest. “And you still came alone to confront him?”
She frowned. “He’s a drunk kid, Locke. I didn’t need a bodyguard.”
“Even a drunk kid can do serious damage, Isa.”
She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I can’t protect myself.”
“Did you tell Des about this?”
“He knows.”
“And he let you come over here? Alone?”
“Your sexism is showing, Locke,” she snapped.
His head jerked back, and he dropped his arms. If she hadn’t been so upset, she would have found his affronted expression hilarious.
“I’m not. I’m just…” Flustered, he ran a hand through his hair as he looked away. “Dammit, Isa, you could’ve walked into anything.”
Knowing he had a point, she blew out a long breath. “Well, I definitely walked into something.” Her magic grew impatient, and to feed the monster, she inched a little closer to Leo. “This missing person—who is it?”
Those sharp eyes didn’t miss her movement, but he didn’t comment. “His name is Isaiah. He just turned seventeen. His older brother has been trying to track him down, with no luck.”
“What happened?” She could think of a hundred reasons why a teen would take off, but the fact that Locke was trying to track the kid indicated something deeper was at play.
“That’s what I came over to ask Leo.”
“It’s going to be hard to get your answers now,” she pointed out.
“Maybe not.”
She looked over her shoulder to find Locke studying her with those glacial eyes that appeared to glow. Not wanting to admit how much that eerie gaze unsettled her, she asked, “What?”
“What if you—”
“Uh-uh, nope.” She shook her head as she backed away. “Nope. Not doing it, Locke.”
He tilted his head, his gaze shifting from considering to calculating. “Your magic wants to,” he drawled.
“It doesn’t always get what it wants.” The reminder was as much for her as it was for him. She turned away, rubbing her arms where, once again, her hair was standing on end. “Dial it back, buddy.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
She shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “Aren’t you?”
His gaze went from her arms and to her face. That unearthly pressure in the room took a step back, like a wolf sitting on its haunches. “It’s not just my magic running wild, babe.”
She let go of her arms and sank into a crouch next to Leo. The power that lived inside her pulled against her control, eager to play in the echoes of death. “I’ve got it in check.”
He gave a disbelieving huff. “Come on, Isa. I’ve got a missing kid, and this guy was my best lead.”
And that sucks, but… “Can’t you do whatever it is you do and sniff him out?”
Instead of answering, he asked, “Why won’t you help?”
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but helping would cost her. For a moment, she wished Des had been the one to come after Leo. As a Tracer, getting answers for Locke would be a lot less deleterious.
For once, she decided to give him the unvarnished truth. “Because it’s not right.”
“Like that’s ever stopped you.”
And that snapped comment answered a long-held question. Clearly, Locke had investigated her. But how deep has he dug? She curled her hands into fists but refused to look at him as he muttered a vile word.
Then he was dropping into a crouch next to her, remorse heavy in his voice. “I took that too far, Isa.”
He had, but it was also an accurate statement she couldn’t argue with. She could feel the weight of his gaze, but she resolutely kept her attention on Leo.
Locke blew out a breath and, in a less aggressive tone, said, “You’re a Reaper. All you have to do is check to see if his soul, or whatever, is close enough to pin down for some answers.”
His oversimplification was typical of mages who had not the first clue about how those who played in the other realm worked. She didn’t have time to school him in the intricacies of the Spiritualist classification. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t share a CliffsNotes version.
With studied patience, she explained, “First, I’m not Des.
Talking to the dead is not my thing. Second, violent death damages the soul, leaving it chaotic and sometimes incoherent.
What you’re asking of me is to take a traumatized soul, trap what’s left of it in my body, and force it to answer your questions.
” She finally looked at him. “Ever heard of ‘my body, my choice’?”
He met her gaze, and she was surprised to see both remorse and determination in his eyes.
“It is—it so is—but I need your help.” He paused then added the killing blow. “Isaiah needs your help.”
Shit damn fuck it. It was her turn to look away. Sensing her acquiescing, her magic leapt with excitement even as her gut twisted into painful knots.
“Fine.” Without looking at him, she waved him away. “Go stand over there and stay out of my way.”
She felt him move back, taking the feral hum of his magic with him.
She pulled in a deep breath, her fingers closing over the warm gold of the pendant resting against her skin.
With skillful ease, she brought her soul’s reflection into focus as she let the air out in a slow and steady exhalation.
A figure formed in her mind’s eye, created from iridescent ebony and dotted with tiny pinpricks of starlight.
It was feminine and her but also not her.
A tattered cloak of deepest black curled around her.
The figure’s hair moved like inky ribbons, her features vague, her eyes two pits of deeper darkness.
Isa loosened her grip on her magic, and the figure pulled up the hood of the cloak until her blurred features were nothing but shadows, and those unearthly eyes took on a ghostly glow.
As an invisible wind whipped the cloak about, icy fingers twined around Isa, strangling the warmth of compassion, mercy, love, and understanding until only a pitiless resolve remained, leaving behind a Reaper once known as Isa.