Page 11 of Bold Mercy

Chapter Eight

I wasn’t lacking for work. If anything, the city had abruptly become a hub of supernatural activity, and the office phones hadn’t stopped ringing all day. People walked in, as well, and after I finished up with my sixth client and left my office to take a break, I was shocked to see a full waiting room.

“Fucking November,” I realized.

With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten that November was an extremely active time for spirits. It was said that the veil between the worlds was at its thinnest during the entire month of November, and I believed the hell out of that theory. Things that happened in November changed our world forever in subtle and not so subtle ways, and it wasn’t just with the dead. I’d hunted and killed more vampires in November than at any other time of the year, as darkness came early and the bloodsuckers were more active, hungrier, and uncharacteristically restless. November affected all nonhumans—dead or alive.

There would be a sudden uptick in house-hauntings from spirits who’d either been stuck here but couldn’t make themselves seen or spirits who’d been unable to come back, for whatever reason, but were suddenly successful in their endless attempts.

Joe was standing by the door, his arms folded and his customary scowl in place, screening anyone who walked in and watching—somewhat hopefully, I believed—for trouble.

I gestured at Max and went back into my office. “No more walk-ins,” I told him. “November is going to be too busy for that.”

“I’ve already put a notice on the door.” He sat on the edge of my desk. “And on the website. After today, it’ll calm down.”

I raised an eyebrow. “We have a website?”

“Um, have you met me?” He slid from the desk and sauntered to the door, muttering. “Do we have a website.” He shook his head. “Pitiful.”

I snorted. “Check on my mother. I’m going to make sure Lucy and Zach are settled in with the pack.” The wolves would keep my friends safe. With November just arriving, a serial killer on the hunt, and a raging human servant bent on revenge, I couldn’t be too careful. We’d be lucky to make it through the month with no casualties.

“Lucy is fine,” the alpha told me when I got him on the phone. “But expect to see Zach. He will not hide to escape danger. Not for long.”

My chest tightened. “You have to keep him there, Jared. He’s not strong enough to fight the vampires. Especially not one full of Axton’s blood magic.”

“I won’t force him to stay here, Kait. He’s a man, not a child. He believes he is part of your group, and he will fight at your side. Lennon is attempting to bolster his strength.”

I thought over his words, and even though I was reluctant to let Zach walk into danger, I knew Jared was right. Zach was a man. A hunter. And he wasn’t going to hide. Not for long.

I sighed. “When he’s ready…”

“I’ll bring him to you personally.”

“Thanks, Jared.”

He hesitated. “Be safe. There’s something in the air.”

“Fucking November,” I said.

“Fucking November,” he agreed, then, “You will kick November’s ass, Wolf.”

He ended the call before I was quite ready to let him go. I rubbed the chill bumps from my arms, then hit the intercom button to tell Max to send in my next client. I made appointments for a dozen cleanings, my mind on the ticking clock. Night would soon come, and with it, the vampires.

I was more afraid of the once human servant and her followers than I was of the human serial killer. Both would do damage, but the serial killer was more relatable, somehow. And, as I’d told the detective once, serial killers were just a little fascinating, the bastards.

I’d no sooner thought of the detective than he appeared, striding through the still-packed waiting room as I stood at my office door speaking with Max. Joe intercepted him but I gestured and shook my head, and he let Rick walk on undisturbed. Good thing, because Rick did not look like he was in the mood to be slowed down by anyone.

His face wore a familiar look of grim determination crossed with angry worry. His brows were low, his eyes dark, hands curled into fists. I sighed when he reached me. “What happened now?” I murmured.

“In your office,” he said, and waited until I turned to lead him into the room before he closed the door. He crossed his arms and stared me down, silently accusing me of something I was probably guilty of. “We need to talk,” he said.

“Okay.” I sat down behind my desk and sent him a frown. “Have a seat, Rick. You’re looking a little pale and pissed.” I wasn’t worried that he’d remembered more about his captivity and torture or being dragged through the tunnels. He wouldn’t look angry when he remembered that. There’d be something else in his eyes. Horror, maybe. Pain, definitely.

He ignored my suggestion. “Jakeston’s serial killer has been in touch with me.”

I sat up straight, my eyes wide. “You talked to him?”

“Oh yes,” he said silkily, and that angry accusatory look never faded. “I talked to him. Do you want to know what we talked about?”