Born in Blood (The Sentinels #1)(46)

“You two done playing?” she murmured with a lift of her brow.

Fane shoved away from the wall, his gaze never leaving Duncan. “For now.”

She stepped back. “You may come in.”

Duncan frowned. “Callie—”

“I’m here,” Callie announced, rounding the corner on cue.

Well, maybe not on cue. The Mave no doubt had seen her approach on a security monitor. Or perhaps she had witchy powers that warned who was in the vicinity.

Either way, Duncan was far more concerned about the pale strain he could easily detect on Callie’s pretty face.

What the hell had happened? When she’d left his rooms she’d been flushed and sated and delightfully flustered.

Now she could barely meet his gaze.

He reached out, intending to halt her and demand an explanation of what had caused her sudden discomfort with him only to let his hand drop as the Mave sent him a curious glance and Fane gave a low growl, deep in his throat.

Shit.

Any private chat was going to have to wait.

In silence they shuffled into the elegant office, Fane taking his familiar position in the corner so he could keep an eye on the door and window, his large body leaning against the wall even as his muscles remained coiled to attack.

Did the man ever relax?

The Mave settled behind her desk, waving a hand to the two chairs opposite her. “Have a seat.”

A command despite the polite tone. Duncan waited for Callie to perch on the nearest chair before taking his own seat, bracing himself for the latest disaster.

“Has something happened?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

The Mave wasn’t the type to invite people into her office for chitchat.

“I received a message from your chief this morning,” the powerful witch said in tones that revealed nothing.

Duncan frowned. Why hadn’t Molinari contacted him directly?

“What did she say?”

“I think you should view it for yourself.” The Mave reached to pick up a remote lying on her desk and pressed a button.

Immediately the light dimmed and flickering images appeared on the far wall.

At first there was nothing to see but the dim shadows that filled an empty house.

No, not a house.

A mansion.

One of those cold, sprawling places that looked beautiful in photographs, but had to be as uncomfortable as hell to try and live in.

So what was the deal? A big house with a lot of fancy artwork wasn’t that uncommon, even in Kansas City.

About to demand an explanation, he was halted when the security system shifted to a camera displaying the front yard, obviously set on motion detectors.

Duncan sucked in a sharp breath as he watched a woman with long chestnut hair and a slender build boldly striding onto the porch.

She was no longer naked and she was standing upright instead of being sprawled on her kitchen floor, but there was no mistaking that it was Leah Meadows.

“Is that . . .” He shuddered, the name sticking in his throat. He’d heard a hundred victims tell him that their blood ran cold. Until this minute he’d never actually experienced it for himself. “Holy shit.”

“Leah,” Callie breathed for him, her hands clutching the arms of her chair.

He resisted the urge to reach out and lay his hand over her clenched fingers. “Where is she?” he instead demanded.

“Mission Hills.”

That explained the McMansion. The upscale neighborhood was south of the city and populated with the swankiest of the swanky.

Callie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied Leah placing her hand on a small screen.

“What’s she doing?”

“Disarming the security system,” Duncan absently responded, almost missing the significance as she turned to push open the door and stepped inside the house. Through a fog of horror he watched as the young, beautiful girl walked around as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Christ. Was it possible she was an empty shell being used as a puppet by some psycho necromancer? “That’s it.”

The Mave sent him a small frown. “What?”

“That’s the reason the ...” He struggled for the right word. The bastard wasn’t a diviner like Callie. He was the bogeyman the norms feared. “Necromancer chose Leah.”

“Of course,” Callie gasped as she easily followed his logic. “She could pass through security.”

The Mave nodded, her expression unreadable as they all turned back to the images flickering on the wall. The camera angle shifted to follow Leah as she moved through the house, her movements chillingly fluid considering she was a corpse. She was walking across a long living room when another form, this one a male, entered the room.

“Busted.” Duncan unconsciously leaned forward, taking a swift inventory of the newest player. An aging white male who moved toward Leah like a peacock. Puffed out chest, strutting walk. All he was missing was tail feathers to spread. Pompous dick. “This should be interesting.”

They watched in silence as there was an exchange. There was no sound, but they didn’t need to hear the conversation to know that the man wasn’t happy. At least not at first. There was a short tête-à-tête, then clearly reassured, the man was shoving his hand under Leah’s stretchy little top.

“A little too interesting,” Callie said with a grimace.