# Hot Demon Nights

Elle James

Rookie cop Katya Danske didn't ask to become a member of Manhattan's Paranormal Investigation Team - or to be partnered with a sexy-as-hell demon.Then a zombie literally drops into her lap and she's recruited to help Blaise Michaels battle an impending zombie outbreak.Blaise is as exasperating as he is arousing, but while Katya's head tells her she should keep her distance, her body wants something else entirely.Forced to work closely together, their investigation takes them into the darkest shadows of the Manhattan underworld - and makes their attraction impossible to deny. But with the zombie threat rising, their hot nights together may be their last.

Rookie cop Katya Danske didn’t ask to become a member of Manhattan’s Paranormal Investigation Team—or to be partnered with a sexy-as-hell demon. Then a zombie literally drops into her lap and she’s recruited to help Blaise Michaels battle an impending zombie outbreak.

Blaise is as exasperating as he is arousing, but while Katya’s head tells her she should keep her distance, her body wants something else entirely. Forced to work closely together, their investigation takes them into the darkest shadows of the Manhattan underworld—and makes their attraction impossible to deny. But with the zombie threat rising, their hot nights together may be their last….

Hot Demon Nights

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Chapter-One

Chapter-Two

Chapter-Three

Chapter-Four

Chapter-Five

Chapter-Six

Chapter-Seven

Chapter-Eight

Copyright

Chapter One

It started out as a typical late, summer night in the city. The weather had yet to really warm up enough to call it summer, but I chose to sit out on the deck. Well, I call it a deck, but it’s really the fire escape landing, a tiny postage-stamp stretch of wrought iron outside the living room window of my closet-sized Manhattan apartment. Anyway, I was minding my own business, thinking through a crappy night on the job as a cop with the Fifth Precinct in Manhattan. I’d arrested no less than three prostitutes, two indecent exposures and chased down—and caught—one mugger, all before midnight and shift change. And after all that, what did I get? Grief on the way to the locker room.

I came into this job with five years experience on the Chicago police force—not a friggin’ cakewalk. But that didn’t seem to mean a thing to the other officers. At best, they’re condescending pricks, patting my head as if I was a favored pet cocker spaniel. No respect. At worst…well, at worst, they reminded me of why I left Chicago. Today, I took down the guy who patted my ass. Slammed his face into the concrete floor before he knew what hit him. Caught hell from my super for that, but the bastard deserved it.

It’s no secret why every guy in the precinct and every jerkwad on the street thinks I’m a powder-puff lightweight contender. I’ve been cursed with light blonde hair, big boobs and the kind of curves most porn stars would die for. Hell, they could have them.

Anyway, back to the story. I was coming down off the adrenaline rush of the job, having a glass of cheap wine, trying to wind down so that I could get a wink or two of sleep before the next round of Manhattan nightlife. About the time I thought I had the adrenaline high licked, a smell reached my nostrils, a stench so powerful I couldn’t escape it. I pressed my hand to my nose, my stomach roiling, waiting for the smell to pass, only it got stronger by the minute. When it became too much, I pushed to my feet, and glanced around.

Did I tell you I had a super sniffer? I could sniff out dead bodies from half a mile away. I’d always considered it a curse, never more so than at that moment. Because this one wasn’t a half mile away, which meant the smell was so strong I nearly choked on it. A scream from the landing above me made me glance up. I leaned over the railing, trying to see what the heck was going on.

Another scream was quickly followed by a woman shoving a man out her window. He thumped onto the landing one up from me. What the hell was going on? I slipped back into my apartment to get a weapon. My service revolver would have been my first choice, but it was buried in a pile of clothes. Digging it out would take too long. On the other hand, the special butcher knife I use to chop vegetables was right there on the kitchen counter, the long stainless steel blade gleaming in the night lights of the city.

I had just stepped back out on the landing, prepared to climb up the ladder to the floor above me, when the man tipped over the edge of the railing, slid down the fire escape, and landed on top of me.

Trapped in the ladder enclosure, I struggled to get out from under him. The knife, knocked from my hand, lay a couple of feet away from me. The guy had to outweigh me by a hundred pounds. The stench of rot overwhelmed me, triggering my gag reflex. I swallowed hard on the bile rising up my throat and shoved my way out from beneath him, rolling across the metal mesh, stretching toward the knife.

The man grabbed my ankle and yanked me back, his hand cold as death. I rolled onto my back and kicked him in the face, shaking free of his grip long enough to grab the knife.

I sat up at the same time as he lunged for my throat. With little time to aim, I plunged the blade into his neck, expecting to be drenched in blood. But none fell and neither did big-bad-and-smelly.

The knife wedged in his throat, he hesitated only a moment before coming at me again. With my hand still on the handle of the butcher knife, I ripped it to the side with all my strength, severing my attacker’s head from his odiferous body.

Instantly, he went limp. Like a dead weight, he fell on top of me, his head rolling to the side, held only by a thin strap of skin.

We slammed backwards onto the metal mesh floor, knocking the wind out of me. When I got my breath back, I shoved and pushed, struggling to breathe in air so polluted by the stench I thought I’d die before I finally rolled free. I scrambled to my feet, tugging my T-shirt up over my nose, hoping to muffle the aroma as I stared down at my attacker.

His blue-gray skin wasn’t natural for a man freshly killed. I bent to touch my fingers to him, drawing my hand away as if it had been burned. The guy was icy cold. The head had wedged against the railing, the eyes staring up at me through a milky film. There was still no blood. This guy had been dead far longer than the few minutes since I’d sliced through his throat. How in hell had he attacked me?

I didn’t believe in supernatural phenomena, but something about the situation stank more than the rotting corpse.

Being the dutiful cop, I called in the attack. Within minutes, uniforms overran my apartment, all asking questions, only a handful of which I could answer. The woman upstairs who’d pushed the body out the window was no help whatsoever. She’d been mauled and lay unconscious until the EMTs got there.

Not until the medical examiner declared that the man had been dead for over two weeks and the EMTs cleared the body from my landing did I finally take a deep breath, though the lingering scent of death continued to turn my stomach. The first responders cleared the room, leaving an older detective in a black trench coat, and a tall, broad-shouldered younger man dressed in black pants, a plum-colored shirt open at the neck and a longish black leather jacket. The younger man moved around my apartment with cat-like grace, his every move dark and sensuous. My breathing grew heavy, my heart rate kicked up a notch. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, and he hadn’t identified himself as a detective, like the old guy had. What was he doing here and why did my pulse speed up from watching him?

The older man stepped forward, flashing a badge in my face. “Officer Danske, I’m Detective Thomas with the Paranormal Investigative Team.”

With considerable effort, I dragged my gaze from the man in black and fought to process what the detective had just said. “Excuse me?” My eyes narrowed. “Did you say paranormal something?”

He smiled. “The Paranormal Investigative Team—we’re a special investigation team established to handle the unexplainable in the Manhattan area.”

My first thought was that someone was playing a prank on me—typical hazing of the newbie. But that…man who’d attacked me had been a hell of a lot more than a prank. “What does that mean?” I demanded. “Are you like ghost hunters or something?”

For some reason, I instinctively looked to the younger man for answers. But he wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he lifted a framed photo of my mother, me and my little brother from an end table.

“Hey, don’t touch my stuff.” I strode across the room and jerked the frame from his hands—my first mistake. My fingers collided with his, sending a strong jolt of something very much like electricity throughout my body, setting every nerve ending on fire. What the hell?

I backed away, my gaze claiming his.

His eyes glowed, intense black and shiny, peering into mine as if he could see all the way to my soul.

My breath caught and held. I lifted a hand to my throat, pressing the other to my breast, as if to hold my galloping heart steady. “Who the hell are you?”

He smiled, his teeth gleaming white, the dark lock of hair hanging down over his forehead glossy black and begging to be brushed to the side.

My hand rose to do just that, only I caught myself before I actually touched him.

The older man stepped up beside us, reminding me we weren’t alone.

“This is Blaise Michaels, a member of my team.”

Anger gave me the strength I needed to break the stare between us. “Tell your underling to leave my things alone,” I forced out between clenched teeth.

“Blaise.” Detective Thomas’s tone was low, but intense. “Let me handle this. I think she can be of use to us.”

The younger man’s lips slid into a full, sexy grin. “I agree,” he responded, then winked at me. “You felt it too, didn’t you, Katya?” he said, only his lips didn’t move.

I did a double take. “Did you say something?”

Blaise’s eyes widened, a smile curling his lips, but Detective Thomas interrupted him before he could say anything else. “Stop fooling around. We have a problem and we need to get to the heart of it.” Thomas waved a hand toward the worn leather couch I’d salvaged from a street corner. “Won’t you have a seat? I have a proposition for you.”

For the first time since the room had cleared, I wished I’d rearmed myself with the other knife from my cooking set before I sat. “I’m not much of a fan of propositions.”

Detective Thomas smiled. “I think you might find this one interesting. Based on the M.E.’s report, that man you beheaded earlier tonight had been dead for two weeks.”

“He wasn’t acting dead when he threw himself at me.”

Thomas nodded. “That’s my point. Dead people don’t normally throw themselves around or attack people. That’s when my team gets called in to investigate. The creature who attacked you was a zombie.”

I laughed out loud, then sobered when the good detective and his flunky didn’t laugh with me. “You expect me to believe that?” My glance passed from Thomas to the man he’d called Blaise.

“You saw him. Did he look like a rational, fully functional, warm-blooded human?” The detective’s brows rose as he waited for my answer.

The stench of death still lingered in my nostrils and the cold fingers that had grabbed my ankle hadn’t felt like any live person I’d ever known. Still…zombies?

“We refer to them as reanimated bodies, but to the layman, the term ‘zombies’ works.” Detective Thomas paced the living room floor in front of me, his brows dipping low over his eyes. “There’s been a rash of reanimates lately and we haven’t been able to find the source. I’m short of staff and frankly I haven’t met too many people I’ve felt I could trust to keep calm in weird situations and do the job without hesitation. Or willing to keep his or her mouth shut about the paranorms roaming the streets of Manhattan.” He stopped and faced me. “Until you.”

“Me?” I sat back, my heart thumping hard in my chest. “No wait, back up, what’s this about more paranorms?”

“You know, the usual collection of creatures normally considered folktales or myths.” When I continued to frown, Thomas went on. “Werewolves, vampires, zombies and demons.”

I shook my head. “Look, it’s been a long night,” I said as I got to my feet. “It already had been a long night for me even before I got home. And I think I’ve just about reached my limit.” I walked toward the door, intent on showing them out.

Blaise stepped in front of me before I could get there. “You’ve worked the nightshift for the past six weeks right?”

“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest, more to cover the tightening of my nipples than anything. “So?” The man had so much magnetism going on, I could feel myself leaning toward him. What was wrong with me? I hadn’t felt an attraction this strong since…hell, maybe I’d never felt an attraction this strong. But that was all the more reason to fight it. I didn’t like anything that made me feel out of control. And there was nothing controlled about my response to this man.

“Haven’t there been some really strange citizen reports of wolf sightings in the alleys or people claiming to have been bitten by a vampire?” Blaise’s gaze slipped to my lips, and almost instinctively I licked them.

I forced myself to concentrate on his words, though they made no sense. “We had those crank calls in Chicago all the time, so what? There are lunatics all over the country.”

Thomas nodded. “Ever wondered if there was a grain of truth to the reports?”

An icy finger of déjà vu trickled down my spine. I had wondered, but discounted it as a little of the crazy rubbing off. Thus, my change of venue from Chicago to Manhattan. That and the stalker coworker who wouldn’t leave me the hell alone—until he finally crossed the line. “No,” I lied. “I never gave their stories a second thought.”

Blaise laughed out loud. Liar. Again, his lips never moved.

I’d been watching them, maybe a little too closely. “I don’t believe in ghosts and never have.”

“I’m afraid denial is not an option anymore. I need someone like you on my team. You proved yourself tonight with the zombie—handling the situation without falling apart.”

Blaise moved away, giving the detective the floor.

I was able to finally direct my attention to Thomas. “I’m a beat cop. I’m out on the streets every night. I don’t fall apart.”

“Good, then it’s agreed?”

My hands went up. “Whoa. I didn’t agree to anything.”

“You didn’t have to. I’ve already spoken with your supervisor and his boss. The paperwork for your transfer will follow in the morning. You can quit altogether and be unemployed, or you can work for me. We need you. Your first case has already…dropped into your lap. It’ll be up to you to find the people responsible for reanimating that dead man.” Detective Thomas shrugged into his coat and started for the door. “Your partner will fill you in on all the details of your new responsibilities.”

“Wait a minute.” I followed Detective Thomas to the door. “I haven’t agreed to this.”

Thomas stopped and turned toward her. “Maybe you don’t understand. I don’t have enough staff to chase this new threat. The man tonight wasn’t the last of them, but nearly everyone else on my team is too tied up to take on new assignments. Unless you step up, the next zombie is going to put more people in danger.”

The blue-gray of the zombie’s face flashed through my mind along with the chill that lingered where his hand had gripped my ankle. “There are other…zombies out there?”

“We’ve had three reports, each a day apart and each zombie is getting more aggressive.”

“Why aren’t they making the news?” I asked.

Thomas nodded toward Blaise. “You want to tell her?”

Blaise leaned his back against the wall beside the door, crossing one leg over the other. It should have looked ridiculously posed. Instead, it looked ridiculously sexy. Damn him.

“The mayor of our great city doesn’t want to kill the multimillion-dollar tourism trade. Between us and the mayor, we keep a tight cap on what stories reach the paper.” He shrugged. “Not too many legitimate papers would touch a story like this, anyway. It sounds too crazy.”

Normally, I roll with the punches, but this—this was a bit overwhelming. “I just started with the Fifth Precinct, I don’t want to change jobs again in such a short amount of time.”

“And we’re wasting time arguing.” Detective Thomas gripped the door handle. “You and your new partner need to get started on the investigation yesterday before anyone else gets hurt.” He opened the door and strode through.

I followed the older man out into the hall. “Partner? When do I get to meet him?”

Detective Thomas turned back to me, frowning. “You already have, and he’s the best we’ve got. He can tell you everything you need to know since he is also a member of the paranorm community.”

It became my turn to frown. “Who—wait—what do you mean?”

Thomas nodded toward my left shoulder. “Blaise is your new partner.”

My stomach flipped, my pulse galloped and I glanced over my shoulder at the man standing in the doorway behind me. “Him? He’s my partner?”

Blaise tipped his head, a light dancing in his black eyes. “The pleasure will be all mine.”

“No way.” I turned back to Detective Thomas, but the man had already started down the steps. “No way. Take him with you.”

The detective’s hand rose, but he didn’t turn back. “I’ll want a full report tomorrow night of anything you’ve found.” The man disappeared, leaving me with the sexiest partner I’d ever had the displeasure of working with.

I groaned as I faced Blaise Michaels. “I can’t work with you.”

He held the door for me to reenter my own apartment as if he owned the place. “I’m sure I don’t understand why. I promise not to bite—unless you want me to.” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Besides, I’ve learned that whatever Detective Thomas asks for, he gets, no questions asked.” The jerk gave me a decidedly smug grin. “You and I are now partners.”

I stepped far enough into the apartment that my back was to him then closed my eyes, tipping my head back to ease the tension in the back of my neck. Before I could even blink my eyes open, warm fingers clamped down on my shoulders and strong thumbs dug into the knotted muscles, soothing the kinks out. I should have jumped and inserted a safe distance between us, but my feet refused to move, and his fingers worked magic on the soreness caused by a two-hundred pound corpse landing on top of me. Twice.

“This is not going to be the norm.” I didn’t want him to get used to touching me. Since Chicago, I’d become wary of letting anyone lay so much as a finger on me. I tended to lash out instinctively whenever a man got within arm’s length, as the guy from the station with the imprint of the concrete floor on his face could attest. So why wasn’t I pulling away? How could it be that I was actually relaxing under the skillful pressure of his hands?

“Understood.” His fingers kneaded up my neck to the base of my skull and downward to the middle of my waist and lower.

God, it felt good. Too damned good. “What did Detective Thomas mean by you being a member of the paranorm community?”

Blaise’s thumbs dug into the base of my spine, just above the swell of my ass, dispelling the ache that had grown there since I’d pulled myself from beneath my earlier attacker.

“I’m currently the only member of the PIT crew—that’s the acronym for the Paranormal Investigative Team—who is a living, breathing paranorm. However, I am actively recruiting others to join.”

The warmth that he generated with just a touch suddenly froze and an ominous chill slid up my spine, spreading fingers of ice to my extremities. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a demon.”

Chapter Two

What do you say to something like that? I had no idea. So for the first time—in my life, maybe—I just kept my mouth shut and listened…while standing way the hell on the other side of the room from Blaise.

For the rest of the dark morning hours, I stayed mostly silent while Blaise more or less performed a core dump of information on me. My mind spun with images of what he swore was out on the streets of New York City and everywhere else in the world.

Werewolves, werecats, vampires, demons, witches, zombies and more. Seriously? And the token demon of our PIT crew expected me to sleep like a baby? I wanted to lock my doors and wear garlic by the time he finally left me alone. I could see why the mayor went on the assumption that ignorance was bliss. Every man, woman and child would be terrified of their shadow if they only knew what walked the streets. I considered myself as tough and level-headed as anyone I knew, and yet when I fell into bed after Blaise left, I had the totally irrational hope that I’d go to sleep and wake up to find that it had all been a bad dream.

No such luck.

After a three-hour failed attempt at sleep, I gave up, threw on a pair of jeans, my leather boots and a Rolling Stones T-shirt and headed to the Fifth Precinct station. Transferred or not, it was the only place I knew to go—and if I could put in a request for a new partner while I was there, then that would just be a bonus, wouldn’t it?

As soon as I stepped out of my building onto the sidewalk a gust of wind lifted the scarf around my neck. I zipped my leather jacket and turned in the direction of the station, running into the solid, muscular chest of Blaise Michaels.

“There you are, Katya. I wondered how long it would take for you to come out to play.”

The deep, blood-stirring tone made my blood tingle, warming me instantly. “What are you, a stalker demon or something?” I stepped down off the curb and raced across the street, dodging traffic.

The demon had no problem matching my pace. Damn.

“Just doing my job and sticking close, partner.” I don’t know how he did it, but he made that last word sound completely obscene. It distracted me so much that my foot caught on the curb and I pitched forward.

Blaise’s hand snaked out to capture me, hauling me against his chest, safely out of the way of one of NYC’s kamikaze yellow cabs. The driver honked and shook his fist as if I’d attempted to commit suicide by taxi just to annoy him.

The moment my chest slammed into Blaise’s solid wall of muscles, my breath left my lungs and a cloud of confusing emotions fogged my normally clear thinking. “What the hell are you doing?” I cursed my voice for sounding so breathless.

“Saving your life.”

The rumble of his chest vibrated through me, sending tingles throughout my body. What was wrong with me?

“Unlike demons,” he continued, “you humans are not immortal. Taxis tend to make hamburger out of you.”

I turned until my gaze caught his. “And not demons?”

He grinned. “We’re immortal.”

I wanted to resist asking him questions just to avoid seeing him look so unbearably smug about my curiosity, but I had so much to learn. As I walked toward the station, I found myself staring at every individual passing by. Could that woman with the pink beret be a fashion-reject werecat? Or was the man with the Armani suit another demon like my soon-to-be-ex-partner?

“No, the woman is a human, and the man is a human corporate executive, not a demon.” Blaise chuckled. “And I’m not going to be an ex-partner until this case is closed.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. A man behind me slammed into my back, cursing before he moved around me. “Now, I know I didn’t say anything out loud about that woman or that man. How did you know what I was thinking?” My eyes narrowed. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you that you can read my mind?”

He shrugged in that way that was becoming exceedingly annoying. “Then I won’t tell you.” Blaise held out his arm for me to take. “Shall we?”

I ignored it and him, and continued toward the precinct, trying everything in my power to block my thoughts, or clear my mind of all the nasty, sexy feelings I’d had toward Blaise since we’d met.

The demon leaned close and spoke into my head without a word passing through his lips. By the way, I find myself strangely attracted to you, as well, even though humans usually bore me.

I thought about telling him off, but one look was enough to make it clear it wouldn’t do any good. Attempting to ignore him instead, I marched off, hoping to leave the demon in my dust.

He hung on like stink on dung all the way to the station.

Twenty minutes later I was back out on the street, sporting a new badge and a weapon, loaded with silver bullets, resting against my ribs in a shoulder holster. My blood pressure had hit the sky and my hands shook with anger. No manner of arguing would change the game. I was stuck with the demon.

“Yes, my dear, you are stuck with me. Now, can we get down to the business of finding the man behind the reanimation?”

After counting to three, then ten, then twenty, I realized I’d have to solve this case to get a new partner. Maybe by then the workload of the PIT crew would have slackened and I could be switched to someone new.

“Fine,” I said. “Where do you suggest we start?”

Blaise hooked my arm and led me to the curb where he hailed a taxi. “I’ve already gathered the information about the other two zombies that were found over the past week. All three were human men recently deceased.”

“Where did they come from?” The wind chose that moment to kick up and send a cool blast down the back of my neck. Or at least that’s what I told myself as a shiver rippled across my skin.

“Three separate morgues.” A taxi slid up to the curb and Blaise opened the door for me.

I climbed in and slid across, making room for my…partner. “Go on.”

“Each body was supposedly taken to a local crematorium for disposal.”

I bit down on my bottom lip and stared out at the buildings as we slid by at the stop-and-go pace of a NYC cab. “Let me guess, they weren’t cremated?”

“You tell me. The guy who attacked you was on record as being cremated two days ago.”

“Anyone talk to the people running the crematorium?” I darted a glance at Blaise.

He nodded. “I called. The man who signed for the bodies hasn’t shown up for work in two days.”

“Did you get a name?” I frowned. “How about an address?”

“That’s my girl.” Blaise smiled, but the words sent a cold chill through me—and not the good kind. Guys flirting with me was pretty common. Annoying, but common. When they got possessive, though…bad things happened. He seemed to pick up on my change in mood, and his tone was all business when he spoke again. “That’s where we’re headed. The owner wouldn’t give me any information over the telephone.”

“Let’s get something straight,” I blurted out. “I’m not your girl. I’m a cop…or an investigator, now. You’ll respect that, or I’ll have you brought up on charges of sexual harassment, and…and Thomas will fire your ass.”

He gave me a long, considering look, and I thought as loudly as I could about the weird music the cab driver was listening to. If Blaise didn’t know what had happened to me in Chicago, I certainly wasn’t going to let him find out by eavesdropping in my head.

“Hardly,” he said at last. “I don’t work for him.”

I frowned. “I thought you were a member of the PIT crew.”

“On my own terms. I assist with investigations when I feel it’s necessary. As one of the paranorms—as the good detective likes to call us—I’m concerned when our existence is threatened.”

“And these zombies are threatening your existence?”

“Most of us just want to blend in, live in peace and be left alone. When someone steps out of line, I help clean up the mess. Either as part of the PIT crew, or on my own.”

I snorted. “Very noble.”

“Simple self-preservation.”

“I thought you were immortal.”

“Demons live forever if left alone. But there are ways to kill a demon.”

Good to know.

The taxi slid to a stop in front of a sign for the Murray Crematorium.

“Remind me to ask about those ways to kill a demon.” I slid out my side and stepped up on the curb.

Blaise chuckled as he joined me. “I’m not convinced that would be such a good idea for me.”

“Damn right.” I pushed through the open door into the softly lit entrance painted in light gray and mauve, soothing colors for those contemplating toasting a loved one.

But there was nothing soothing about this location for someone with a nose like mine. More so, I hated the smell of dead people, and the place practically reeked of death.

A man in a—you guessed it—gray suit stepped out of an office, his fingers steepled, a slippery smile on his face. Not too much, not too little, but just enough of a smile to reassure a would-be customer.

Creepy.

“May I help you?” he inquired.

“Are you the owner?” I asked.

He nodded like the butler on the Addams Family. Seriously chill-worthy.

I flipped my badge open. “We’re with the NYC police department, investigating the apparent theft of three bodies from your premises.”

The man’s plastered-on, fake smile dipped into a ghoulish frown and he glanced behind us as if afraid someone might come through the front door and overhear us. “Please, step into my office.”

I did and turned to face him immediately. Blaise followed the man, effectively trapping him between the two of us.

“As I told the detective on the telephone earlier—” the owner started.

Blaise raised a finger. “That would be me.”

“—I was out of town those days. Marcus Dunham was the employee in charge of receiving and processing the remains of the three gentlemen. He hasn’t shown up for work in the past two days and he’s not answering his telephone at home. I didn’t know he’d…misplaced…the clients until the call this morning. I’ve gone over and over the paperwork and it’s all in order. I don’t know what could have happened.”

“Have you conducted a complete inventory of…clients?” I asked. “Are there any more missing than the original three?”

“We don’t make it a habit to keep our clients any longer than necessary.” The man straightened, his back stiff, his chin tipping upward until I could see the hairs in his nostrils. Ick. Not a pretty sight. “We run a dignified establishment. This is the first and only time such a travesty has occurred, I assure you.”

I was inclined to believe him. It was clear he took pride in the business, and wouldn’t want anything to damage the company’s reputation—like word getting out that a dead body in his care went on a rampage. “We’re going to need the name and address of the employee who accepted and redirected the bodies. Also, are there any video cameras?”

The man blinked. “Why would we need cameras? Most of our clients aren’t in the habit of walking out of here. But I will get you that address.” He strode to a mahogany file cabinet in the corner of the office and opened the bottom drawer, selecting a file from within. He jotted a name and address on a notepad, ripped off the top sheet and handed it to me. “Do I need to go to the police station to file missing persons reports on the clients that were stolen from here?”

“I suggest you do that.” Now that I had what I needed, there was no point in sticking around. The place smelled of death and ash, cleverly, if not completely, disguised by a rose-scented candle burning on the man’s desk. “They will want a statement and any other information you might have.”

Blaise followed me out the door.

Once outside, I inhaled deeply, sucking in the polluted air of New York as if it was the nectar of the gods. The stench of death clung to my leather jacket, even as we hurried to the curb to hail a taxi.

The employee who’d stolen or sold the bodies lived in Brooklyn, a short taxi ride away. As I lifted a hand to wave down a taxi, I brushed against a teenager who smelled distinctly of dog.

“Werewolf,” Blaise confirmed.

I spun to check out the young man who wore jeans and a hoodie sweatshirt, plugged into an MP3 player, like any other teenaged human. “Really?”

The teen glanced my way. When he noticed I was watching him, he glared and turned his back to me, hurrying away.

“Anyone tell you it isn’t nice to stare?” Demon partner hooked my elbow and dragged me around to face the street. “It’s not as though he’ll change in public.”

Heat blossomed in my cheeks, and I forced myself to look away from where the teen had blended into the foot traffic on the sidewalk. “I can’t help it. This is crazy. You mean, all the years I thought my nose was playing tricks on me, it was right on the money?”

Blaise’s brows drew together. “How long have you been aware of your extra-sensitive sniffer?”

I shrugged. “My mother always said I liked to sniff my blankets when I was a baby. I could tell which one was my favorite, even half asleep and with my eyes closed. Why?”

“Are you sure you don’t have were-blood in you? You’re not a demon with special powers or anything?”

I snorted. “Hell, no.” I stopped. At least, I didn’t think I was.

“Were you born in Chicago? There are plenty of paranorms there, as you probably already suspected. Can you trace your lineage back on both your mother’s and father’s sides?”

My back stiffened. I didn’t like talking about my father. What had he ever done for me or my mother? “I don’t have a father.”

“What do you mean?” Tall, dark and demon leaned casually against the back of the seat, but I could sense when he’d tensed.

“He was a jerk. He left my mother when my brother was born. Not that it’s any of your business.” I turned away from him, in the opposite direction of the werewolf teen. Even after all the years of being alone, the pain I felt over my father’s desertion left me cold. The blow had been an especially tough one for my mother. She’d had to struggle to support me and my baby brother, working long, hard hours, barely able to afford a babysitter much less put food on the table.

The heartache of my father’s desertion paled in comparison to my little brother’s disappearance when he was only five years old. There in the playground one moment, gone the next. My mother never got over his loss. I’d been twelve at the time. Mom had hung on long enough to see me graduate from high school before she passed away. I attributed everything wrong in her life to poor living conditions and a broken heart. If my father had been half a man, he’d have stuck around and helped her. But maybe my ideas about what a man should be were totally off base. Lord knows I’d never found one that lived up to my ideal.