But the walls were smeared with dried blood, and there were recent stains on the brown carpet—stains that hinted at human body parts. One was in the shape of a leg, another a foot, then part of an arm, and god knows what else. Thankfully, all the bits had been gathered up and, from the smell, now lay under plastic sheeting on the bed. Oddly enough, I couldn’t smell putrefaction, just death and aged meat. Maybe vampires didn’t rot like the rest of us when they died.

What I couldn’t sense was Green’s ghost. Maybe this death had been ordained, which meant a reaper had been here at the time of his death to guide his soul onward. I glanced at Azriel and he nodded in confirmation.

“And unfortunately, too much time has lapsed since his death for there to be any lingering sense of the creature who caused it.”

“If it is a spirit rather than a demon, would you still have been able to sense it?”

“If we’d been early enough, yes.”

Well, that was something of a relief, if only because it meant that if this thing decided to attack us, he’d sense its approach before it actually got to us. My gaze fell on the black plastic mound and my stomach turned. As much as I didn’t want to look at the remnants of Jake Green, I knew that I had to. Because of Hunter, and because I needed to see if there was anything that might give us a clue as to what had done this. Hunter may have had guardians in here and might already know the answer to that particular question—especially if this was just another test to prove my worth—but that only meant it was more important than ever that I do whatever I needed to do to see an end to this case.

I stepped closer and tried not to breathe too deeply. Jake Green might not be rotting, but he was still dead, and that was never a pleasant thing, not even at the best of times. I reached back for Amaya and carefully slid her point under the nearest edge of plastic. She spat yellow sparks that suggested her distaste was as great as mine, but thankfully she didn’t set anything alight.

I folded back the plastic. Jake Green was little more than a mound of parts. One leg, several arm parts, bits of bone and torso and trailing innards, and finally, his head. Thankfully, that was facing away from me. I had no desire to move around to check it out.

“God,” I muttered, revulsion giving my voice a harsher edge. “This thing didn’t just eat him. It tore him apart.”

“The state of the body does suggest there was a feeding frenzy.” Azriel moved around me to squat in front of the head. “Which is not the usual modus operandi for a Wendigo.”

I sheathed Amaya, then rubbed my arms, trying to chase away the gathering chill. “What about a Rakshasa?”

He shrugged. “I do not know enough about them to confirm or deny the probability. But given the anger of the ghosts, it is always possible that the creature who did this is merely echoing how the whores all died in that room.”

“So they did die in a vampire feeding frenzy?”

His gaze met mine. “You know they did.”

“No, I suspected they did. There’s a difference.”

“As you often say to me, only by a matter of degrees.” He reached out and pressed his fingers on either side of the severed head.

“Oh god,” I said, the revulsion curling through me suddenly getting stronger. “You’re not going to try to capture his last memories, are you?”

He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “You have seen me do this before. Why the distaste now?”

I waved a hand at the remnants. “Because of this—the way he died. I really don’t want to see it in all its gory detail.”

“Then do not look.” His gaze flicked past me, and I knew without looking that he was studying the recording device that hovered just above my right shoulder. He added silently, I do this for you—to help solve this case quickly so that we can get back to more urgent matters—rather than possessing any real interest in knowing the details of this death.

The problem is, the more urgent matter is at a standstill until my father contacts me or Jak comes up with something.

Which does not alter the need to get this task over with just in case either event happens.

I acknowledged the truth of this with a half shrug, and he returned his attention to Green’s head. Valdis’s sides began to run with blue fire as Azriel closed his eyes. Energy surged, sharp and almost bitter in the small room, and in the space between Azriel’s hands pictures began to flow—flickering images that didn’t move quite fast enough to blur—meaning the gist of his death, all the blood and gore and body bits flying, was there to see in living color.

I bit my lip, swallowing heavily against the bile that rose in my throat. When the images finally died, I sighed in silent relief. Azriel removed his hands but didn’t immediately get up. He bowed his head for a moment and spoke, the words musical and oddly captivating. Saying a prayer for the soul that had already moved on.

Finally, he rose. “It is definitely a Rakshasa, and that really is not good news.”

Considering the way fate had been treating us of late, it wasn’t like I was expecting good news. “Why?”

“Because as shape-shifters, they are notoriously hard to track down and even more difficult to kill.”

“Fabulous.” Not. What about Valdis and Amaya? I added silently, not wanting Hunter to know about the swords.

In theory, demons and spirits are of a similar nature, he said. If the swords can destroy one, they should be able to destroy the other.

But you’ve never had reason to test it?

Spirits are of this world, and therefore generally not the concern of Mijai.

What if they venture onto the fields between the worlds?

Then maybe. But they rarely do and, even then, it is only ever onto the paene.

Which was the shadowy divide between this world and the next. “So is there anything that kills them for sure?”

He hesitated. “Most dark spirits are dispelled by sunlight, which is why they hunt by night.”

“Meaning we have to capture the fucking thing before we can kill it? How the hell are we going to do that?”

“White ash and silver hold dangerous energies to the spirit kind. It might be possible to cage the Rakshasa with either until the morning comes.”

“Unfortunately, I’m part were. I can’t handle silver without it burning me.”

“White ash, then.”

I wrinkled my nose. It’d be my luck that white ash would do jack squat and I’d be left wishing I had silver. I studied the body for a moment, then frowned. “There’s one thing I don’t get. I can understand the Rakshasa going after the vampires who caused the deaths of those in the large feeding room, but why now? These deaths have been happening for years.”

He shrugged. “I can’t answer that because I do not know enough about the Rakshasa. But it is possible the anger and need for revenge were not strong enough to be a serious draw to dark energies until now.”

An unsettling thought stirred. I studied him for a moment, then said, “So does that mean you and I could be serious draws for darker energies? I mean, you’ve tasted revenge, and I’m currently chasing it.”

He hesitated. “Darker energies, no. Darker fates, perhaps.”

Trepidation tripped through me. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning, my fate was decided the moment I was assigned this task. Yours, however, is not so clear.”

“I thought your becoming a Mijai was the end result of your revenge. Are you suggesting there’s more to it?”

Again he hesitated. “I will never be as I was, thanks to my actions on this plane.”

For some odd reason, I had the feeling he was talking about a future action rather than a past one, but his expression—or lack of it—told me I wasn’t about to get any more information out of him.

“Then why is my fate so unclear? And does it mean I might or might not be punished, even if I do get my revenge?”

“It means I do not always have the answers you need. This is one of those times, simply because there are still too many variables.”

And that, I thought, might not have been a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. He knew far more than he was letting on when it came to my fate.

Something flickered in his eyes—surprise or acknowledgment; I wasn’t sure which. It was frustrating, to say the least, but it was also pointless to challenge him. He’d tell me more when he was ready, not before.

I sighed and glanced at my watch. If I didn’t leave soon, I’d be late for work. “I don’t think there’s anything else we can do here.”

I said it more for the benefit of the hovering crime scene recorder than Azriel, but he nodded anyway. “You go to work now?”

“Yes.” I studied him for a moment. “Why?”

“Because I will use the time to research the Rakshasa.”

And leave me unguarded? Interesting, given the attack only this morning.

I do not—would not—leave you unguarded. I will simply request help with this matter. He walked around the bed and touched a hand to my elbow, lightly guiding me to the door. This distrust of yours grows old, Risa.

I guess it would, but I just couldn’t help it. We both knew that no matter what he said or did, in the end, his mission was the only thing that mattered. Right now, that mission and I were intimately connected, but if something happened to alter that situation, then I’d more than likely find myself unguarded and alone.

He didn’t say anything to that, even though he would have heard the thought as clearly as if I’d said it out loud. Maybe, despite all his declarations, he knew it to be the ultimate truth.

I returned the key, then headed back down the street to my bike. The ride to work cleared my head a little, as did getting lost in the mad rush of food and alcohol service that the next eight hours at the café brought. Business was still booming, and if it continued at this rate, we were going to have lines of people waiting to get in that rivaled anything the Blue Moon—which was only several doors up the road—had. Which was amazing, considering the Blue Moon was one of the most popular wolf clubs in Melbourne, and we were only one of many cafés catering to the hungry hordes that spilled over from it.