Page 30 of Blood Magic

Kass had done my anti-possession tattoo, as well as most of the rest of them. She was going to have her hands full with Lucy.

She nodded. “I’ll go,” she said reluctantly. Then she took a deep breath, blew it out, and forced herself back to her normal brightness. “How did it go at Long Shadow? You were looking a little pale when Joe dropped you off.”

I carried my plate to the dishwasher. “I didn’t find out much.”

“But you did dig up a vampire?”

I know she wanted the distraction, and usually, I would’ve been more talkative about the situation. Right now, though, I felt too…raw. I’d put alcohol on the scratch he’d given me. I’d even slapped a bandage over it—not because it needed it, but because I wanted to bury it.

Before I could speak, my phone rang. Relieved, I snatched it up. It was the detective. I strode to my bedroom, Ash at my heels. “You’re there?” I asked him.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said. “If you want to call Remy, you should do it now.”

“Thanks, Detective.” I ended the call and tapped in the number Sara had given me. I wasn’t looking forward to calling Remy Simon. I didn’t know him, but I knew of him. And what I knew made me nervous.

Remington Simon believed supernaturals were a direct threat to humans, and it was his goal in life, his purpose, to rid the world of them. It didn’t make me nervous that he was anti-other. It made me nervous that he was good at killing them. Us.

He answered. “Simon.”

I swallowed as fear clutched at my stomach. He didn’t sound the way I’d thought he’d sound. His voice wasn’t harsh and deep and dangerous—he sounded relaxed. Nice, even. “Hello, Mr. Simon,” I started. “I’m a paranormal investigator who communicates with spirits who have trouble crossing over. I—”

He sighed. “Ma’am, I’m a little busy and don’t have time to chat with psychics.” He said “psychics” like he might have said “roadkill.” Apparently, his intolerance extended to anyone who wasn’t straight human. Weird, considering that in order to hunt and kill supernaturals, he had to have something a little extra inside him. He just had to have. “How’d you get this number?” And now he was sounding a little less good old boy and a little more…scary.

I was beginning to get angry at my reflexive nervousness. That asshole couldn’t hurt me. He couldn’t know I was a wolf and hunt me down and infiltrate my pack and destroy us all. I’d kill him first. I lifted my chin and glared at the wall. “Your sister gave it to me.”

He was silent for a few seconds. “Fuck you,” he said, his voice low, gentle, and silky smooth. “Who are you?”

“I know this is a shock,” I told him, “but there’s no time. She wants you to be there when they find her body. I’ve already called the cops, and they have a team heading there now. You’re in Jakeston, aren’t you?”

He said nothing.

“I’m texting you the coordinates. She’s in the woods of Huntersburg.” I took a careful breath. “Mr. Simon, she knew you wouldn’t believe me, so she told me about Paul and the bayou in Louisiana.” Then I clarified. “She didn’t tell me about it, just told me to say those words.”

When he spoke again, his voice sounded no less dangerous, but there was a shaky grimness to it that made me shiver. “How did she die?”

I swallowed. “Vampires,” I murmured. “She said to tell you the fucking vampires got her.”

He disconnected the call and I stood there for a good five minutes, holding my phone and staring at the wall.

Remy Simon was going to find out who I was. One way or the other, he’d find out. What happened then was anyone’s guess, but he was human. I was not. I could kick his ass. I could make him disappear. I could kill him. I had no reason to worry.

Why, then, did Mr. Remy Simon scare the absolute crap out of me?