Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel #1)(4)

But this woman made me feel alive.

She thought I’d committed this murder. I hadn’t, of course. I’d killed too many people in my dark past. I wasn’t above violence now—far from it. But I didn’t crush the skulls of random men in alleys. It was beneath me.

I’d been tracking a stolen dagger—one that I thought had been used on this man. Then she had arrived, then the cops. It was too many people for me. Too many humans.

An insane vision popped into my head—me, storming the scene and taking the woman from them.

It was ridiculous.

For one, it was too dangerous. Not for me, of course. I could have them on the ground in seconds without having to resort to a weapon. But that show of speed and strength would reveal what I was, and the human world must never know what walked among them.

It would be far better if I could get her to come to me. Kidnapping her was hardly a good second impression…especially considering that our first meeting had revolved around a dead body. And I didn’t have any interest in unwilling women, no matter how much I might want her.

I settled deeper into the shadows, watching her.





Carrow



I stood in the alley, my wrists shackled and my former colleagues staring at me. I’d completely bungled this. Hadn’t been careful enough. Hadn’t given myself enough time to search the body.

I should have waited to call the cops, but I’d hoped they’d get there in time to save the victim if I couldn’t.

Corrigan shifted, moving to speak closer to my ear. “I’ll do everything I can to help you, but…”

“I know. You told me to lie low.”

“I warned you, Carrow. I begged you to stay away.”

And he had, but he didn’t know what it was like to know that someone was going to be murdered. I had to try to help them. I couldn’t ignore my visions, no matter what it meant for me.

Anyway, I was tough. I’d figure a way out of this.

“Come on,” Banks barked. “Fellows will take you to the station.”

My gaze skipped over Banks entirely, moving from Corrigan to Fellows, a younger officer that I’d never spoken to before. He watched me with cautious suspicion, as if I really were a murderer.

The body behind me was gruesome enough to make anyone afraid of me.

“Wait,” I said. “There’s no murder weapon. If I’d killed him, surely I’d have a bat or crowbar on me.”

Banks grumbled. “A clever killer like you would find a way around that.”

Bastard.

“Come on.” Fellows took my arm and led me out of the alley.

As we walked, I looked back over my shoulder at the scene. They were already inspecting the body, trying to find clues to prove I’d done this. They were going to find the burn mark and make the connection with Beatrix’s death. I’d also been at the scene of that crime—right after the murderer left and right before they showed up. Talk about bad timing.

And there was no way to show them what I’d seen in my vision: the man standing in front of the victim, tall and broad-shouldered and fanged.

Fanged.

Crazy.

But he’d had no bat, I realized.

Nowhere in my vision had I seen a weapon capable of beating a man’s head in. The man with the fangs had been wearing a long coat, though. Perhaps the weapon had been hidden beneath the folds.

The scene raced by in my mind on the drive to the station. Everything was a blur. Processing. Interviews. With every second that passed, I grew colder and colder.

This was really happening.

My life had been barreling toward this for months, but I’d ignored it. Corrigan had warned me. Show up at the scene of too many murderers, and eventually, someone is going to think you’re a murderer.

By the time Corrigan left the scene and came to talk to me in the interrogation room, I was frozen solid, a block of ice.

He looked tired as he sat down at the table across from me. There was a cup of takeaway coffee in his hands, and he set it on the table in front of him. His brows were drawn together over dark eyes that gleamed with worry and exhaustion.

I leaned forward, my voice desperate. “I didn’t do it.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “The body had a spiral burn mark, Carrow. Just like the mark on your friend Beatrix’s body. This man and Beatrix were killed in the same way. We never released that information, which means this is a serial killer. And you were at the scene of both crimes.”

“You know I’d never kill Beatrix or anyone else.”

“I do.”

I slumped back in my chair. “Thank God.”

“But it doesn’t matter. The team thinks I’ve lost objectivity when it comes to you, and the evidence against you is substantial.”

“What evidence?” My voice was a strangled cry. “I didn’t do it, so there should be no evidence.”

“You were at both scenes less than a minute after the deaths. So close that you could have been there during them.” His voice had turned cold. “A minute, Carrow. How did you do that?”

“I see what I see. You know I can’t explain it.”

He dragged a weary hand over his face. He was a handsome man in his mid-forties, nearly twenty years older than me, but suddenly, he looked like he could be my grandfather. “No court of law will clear you based on your strange visions. That kind of thing just doesn’t exist.”