Monty gave us an address and then added, “Maggie’s already called in Ciara and notified Tala.”
“Brilliant. It’ll take us about ten minutes to get there.”
“Us? Lizzie’s with you?”
“Yes. Aiden out.”
He flicked on the lights and siren then did a tire-squealing U-turn and headed toward Louton. Thankfully, there wasn’t that much traffic on the road, and we got there in eight minutes. Only one ranger vehicle sat out the front of the old brick house, which meant neither Tala nor Ciara had arrived as yet. Police tape had been rolled out around the front of the building, though; Maggie, being her usual efficient self.
Aiden stopped behind her SUV, and we both climbed out. Monty appeared in the front door, kitted out with crime scene booties and gloves. His expression was pale and grim, which didn’t bode well for what had happened inside.
Aiden held the tape up so I could go under and then followed me through. “Are we dealing with the same MO, Monty?”
“No. This time the victim wasn’t murdered during sex, and she very obviously fought back. It’s all a bit of a mess.”
I frowned. “Why would the hone-onna change tack this late into the game? That doesn’t make any sense, given what we know about them.”
“Which isn’t a whole lot, let’s be honest here.” Monty handed us both a pair of booties and some gloves. “Maggie says the victim is Candice Taylor. She’s thirty-five, single, and a vet nurse who worked over in Colban Falls.”
“Where did the murder happen?”
“In the living room. Straight ahead and then to the left.”
I followed Aiden down the narrow, somewhat cluttered hallway into a surprisingly large and bright room. Maggie was taking a photo of what appeared to be a raw piece of meat but glanced up as we all walked in. “This one is bloody nasty, boss.”
As I stopped beside Aiden, a thick wall of terror, agony, and fury slapped across my senses, tearing a gasp from my throat. I automatically sucked in a breath, only to find it filled with blood and death and horror. My knees buckled, and I would have fallen had Aiden not grabbed me.
“Fuck. Sorry, I should have mentioned the violence,” Monty said. “If the psychic vibes are that bad, maybe it would be better—”
“I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
“We can cope without your sensory input,” Aiden growled. “You don’t need to put yourself through—”
“I’m fine.” I pulled away from his grip and shored up my mental shields. It helped, even if it didn’t completely shut out the psychic waves. I ignored them as best I could and studied the room. The victim’s emotions were a tangled weave that floated through the room, but now that I was aware of them, I could for the most part hold them at bay. It was the random bits of flesh and limbs scattered all over the floor and furniture, and blood sprayed across the nearby furniture and walls, that weren’t so easily ignored. When Monty had said it was all a bit of a mess, he’d definitely been understating the situation.
“I take it the rest of her body is elsewhere?” Aiden asked.
Maggie nodded. “In the kitchen. I suspect she was going for a knife. She didn’t make it.”
“Is there any evidence the hone-onna made any attempt to feed on Ms. Taylor the same way as she had the others?” I asked.
“Hard to be positive without a proper postmortem, but I’d have to say no. All the body parts are fully fleshed.” Maggie paused and frowned. “It’s almost as if we’re dealing with an entirely different creature.”
“That’s always possible in this damn reservation.” Aiden said, his tone grim.
“Except,” Monty said, “that the neighbor who reported the attack gave us a description of the woman who entered just before the screaming started, and it matches the report we got of the woman who entered Kyle Mason’s house.”
“Then why the violence this time and not the others?” Aiden said. “Why tear this woman apart and not the men?”
Monty shrugged. “It could be something as simple as the sex of the victims—maybe our spirit simply isn’t into women. Or maybe it’s the fact that this victim fought back.”
“All reasonable explanations,” I said. “But it doesn’t explain the anger lingering in the air. It’s the hone-onna’s rather than Ms. Taylor’s, and I doubt it’s a result of our victim fighting back.”
Aiden’s gaze swept the room before returning to mine. “But why would a revenge spirit be angrier at a woman than a man? Betrayal is betrayal, no matter what the sex of the person committing it.”
“As the old saying goes, it takes two to tango. What if Candice Taylor was the clandestine lover of one of our victims?”
“If that’s true, all the mistresses of all our victims could be on her hit list.” Monty glanced at Aiden. “Do we know the names of the women the other victims were seeing?”
“In Kyle’s case yes, but the affair happened off reservation and several years ago, so isn’t likely to be a problem here,” Aiden said. “We’re still checking phone records of the other victims and calling possible contacts.”
“I have to say,” Monty said, amusement evident, “if someone called me out of the blue and asked whether I was fucking so-and-so, my reaction would be automatic and less than pleasant.”
A smile twitched my lips. “Except no one would ever cold call you with such a question, because you’re well aware what Belle would do to your nuts if you ever did dare cheat.”
His smile flashed. “True, but also a totally unnecessary warning. When you have found perfection, there is no need to go elsewhere.”
“You,” Aiden muttered, “are nauseatingly romantic at times.”
Monty patted him on the shoulder. “Yes, and you should try it sometime.”
Aiden rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as his phone rang. He tugged it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen, and then walked out of the room. Personal call, if his aura was anything to go by.
I did my best to ignore the stupid rise of anxiety and studied the door on the other side of the living room. It obviously led into the kitchen, because the twisted weave of emotions were still emanating from it. What was odd, though, was the fact that the fury appeared to override the victim’s agony, and that really shouldn’t have been the case, given how brutally she’d died.
“Maggie,” I said, “are we okay to go into the kitchen?”
She glanced up. “If you’re careful not to disturb or step in any evidence, yes, but are you sure you really want to? Things are much, much worse in there.”
“I know, I just …” I stopped and waved a hand. “Something feels odd, that’s all.”
She nodded. “Okay, but can I suggest you go in through the hall entrance? There’s less chance of stepping in gore.”
I tried to ignore the images that rose and silently motioned Monty to lead the way. He limped down the hall and stopped at the last door on the left. Instead of ushering me in, though, he placed an arm across to prevent me from entering. “Are you really sure you want to do this? It’s a rather nasty dismemberment, so I’d imagine the emotional waves will be pretty full on.”