One Insatiable(47)

He catches my chin and plants a kiss on my lips. “You don’t need a shirt anymore. You have me.”

“Still…” I go to my dresser and take out underwear, a sleep shirt, shoes. “Oh! Aunt Penny said the man who killed Hayden’s wife, my ancestor’s name was Hunter Strong. Apparently, he changed our name after it happened.”

“That explains it.” Koa nods, rubbing his chin as he paces my room. “I found an article about the construction of this mansion. Did you know it was called Chateau Croix?”

“I never knew it had a name.”

“He built it for his wife, the former Cora Strong of Columbus.”

“Columbus? My family came here from the north, from Canada.”

“I’ll call Slayde and give him this new information. It sounds like a lot of what we think we know has changed through the years. Perhaps the truth has also been changed.”

“You think we might find a loophole?”

“I don’t know, but I won’t stop looking.”

For the first time in days, a glimmer of hope spreads across my chest. Koa pulls me into his arms at once.

“Yes, Mercy. Hold onto that hope.” His lips are against the top of my head, and my eyes close. His strong arms surround me. I’m protected by my fierce panther. “You’re mine. Nothing mortal or immortal is taking you away from me.”



* * *





Koa


Mercy still goes to her job at the gym, even though the new moon is two nights away. I suppose it takes her mind off the hours slipping past as we search for any way around what’s coming. It gives me time to scour the library, searching for anything we might use.

So far, my efforts have been futile. I’ve switched from looking for news about Mercy’s family to researching fault lines in the area, trying to pinpoint where the rift occurs, where the boundary between our world and the underworld breaks.

Back at my apartment, looking at the calendar on my phone, I feel the first twist of fear. My fists tighten, and the network of ink on my forearm ripples. I can fight. I can use my fists to beat him to death, only it isn’t that easy. Thinking back to that sermon Doris made me sit through, I remember that pastor’s words, Our battle isn’t against flesh and blood. I can’t kill an immortal with my bare hands.

Fuck! I punch up Slayde’s number and hit send, waiting as the tone buzzes in my ear.

“Slayde here.” His voice has lost the cold it once had, but he’s still focused.

“It’s Koa. Just checking in.” He emits a low growl, and my insides cramp. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I searched the existing databases. We have good people scanning the old records into our system, but this case is more than a century old.”

“So nothing?” My fist clenches again.

“I’ve got a call in to a guy in Chicago. Derek’s partners, the Knight brothers have family there. Shifter connections.”

“Dogs.”

“Actually, a mix. Their sister is a cat.”

Unusual. The only time you get mixed shifters among siblings is when shifters of different types mate. Like Mercy and I would have… Another flinch of nerves.

“We’re running out of time.”

He’s quiet, and I can hear the sound of computer keys clicking in the background. “I’m seeing what I can find under the Strong name. Also seeing if I can get any photographs of the body. An autopsy might provide a loophole of some kind. Something we could leverage in the High Council for a pardon.”

“Would they do an autopsy on an immortal?”

“No, which is why I’ve requested photos. They did one in this case.”

“They took photos that long ago?”

“They did, actually, but it was the kind that took hours — the small box on three legs with the photographer under a black cape.” He exhales, and I can hear him leaning back. “I’m hoping we’ll find something.”

For the first time in forty-eight hours, I feel hope. “Really?”

“Don’t get excited. Something as ongoing as the type of pact you’re up against will require concrete verification to get it revoked.”

“What’s on your mind?”

He exhales in the phone, and I hear the sounds of movement. “Only thing that might save her would be a mistake. Some way to prove it wasn’t murder.”

“Accidental death?”

“Involuntary manslaughter got you a reduced sentence.”

I wince at the reference. Still… “Immortals don’t follow human rules. They’re vengeful bastards.”

“It’s the best chance we’ve got of freeing Mercy.”

Not encouraging. “Keep me posted.”

Disconnecting the phone, I have to fight the urge to throw it across the room. My jaw tightens as I think.

Jealous rage I can understand. I’m ready to rip Hayden Cross limb from limb when he comes for her. It still might come to that, only I know it would be a death sentence for me.

At the same time, we’re talking about an immortal. As time passes, the sting of rage and grief dulls in our minds. After a century, holding onto this tribute system feels more like pride… or spite.

I’m out the door, descending the wooden stairs when I see my little landlady standing in the driveway. Her stick is propped against her hip like a kickstand, and she’s dressed in pink polyester pants and a cream shirt with large, burgundy flowers on it. Her white halo of hair is also pink.