With a nod, Kunchin pats my forearm. “Good job, rookie.” As he shoulders Sin to one side, he mutters, “Cut her some slack.”
At least someone around here is nice. And normal. Well, other than the thick white fur and long, sharp canines that perch on his gray lower lip. How the hell does he manage to go outside and not get noticed?
“He uses a perception filter,” Sin says quietly.
Springing to my feet, I whirl around and get right in his face. “Were you just using your talents on me?”
He offers me a dry chuckle. “Your expression gave your thoughts away, Zoe.” Sobering, he pins me with that deep blue stare that seems to see right into the depths of my soul. “I swore to you that I would never feed from you—or use my talents on you—without your knowledge, and I do not break my promises.”
“Everyone breaks promises,” I say, fighting a sudden, unexpected, and completely illogical urge to burst into tears.
Sin digs his fingers into his left forearm, then grimaces in pain. “I suppose they do. The last time I failed to keep my word, I lost everything. I will not do so again. You can trust me, Zoe.”
I want to. With everything I am. But if I do, and he betrays me? I’ll never trust anyone again.
“Come with me. Facial recognition will take at least an hour or two. We can set up in a conference room again and start investigating the one shifter we have managed to identify.” When I hesitate, he sighs. “I will buy lunch. Will you join me?”
“Fine.” I grab my satchel and follow him upstairs.
When we’re set up in the same room he ran out of yesterday, he meets my gaze. “What do you eat?”
“Um, food.”
Sin rolls his eyes. “My knowledge of humans is not that limited. Sandwiches? Tacos? Pad Thai? The Bureau has accounts at a handful of local restaurants, and there is a taco truck not too far from here.”
“I’m always up for tacos. What do you eat? Besides arousal.” This is as close to an honest conversation as we’ve had since I started, and though it’s superficial and silly, I need to find some way to connect with him or this is never going to work.
“I enjoy tacos.” The corner of his mouth turns up in what might be considered a smile—in some other fucked up universe—and he logs in to the Bureau’s computer system to pull up our case notes. “The truck I am particularly fond of opens in two hours. Shall we see what we can find on Jacinda while we wait?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, finally feeling a spark of hope that maybe this partnership won’t go down in flames.
Thirteen
Sin
Across the conference room table, Zoe fiddles with a beaded bracelet she pulled off her right wrist an hour ago. It seems to calm her—this repetitive motion—and if I am honest, the quiet clicking of the beads helps me focus as well.
Something has changed between us since she defended me in front of the commander. Or perhaps it changed last night and I did not notice.
She sits back in her chair and peers up at the wall of computer screens. While I spent the previous night trying to dull the pain of my memories with alcohol, she pulled the records for every one of Thorn's suspected victims across the country.
The GHOST system is not only for facial recognition. It also runs advanced pattern matching algorithms, and as she stretches her arms over her head, it beeps, and the computer’s melodious voice says, “Report Compiled. Would you like to hear the results?”
“Yes!” Zoe says, jumping up, bracing her hands on the table, and staring at the screens like they hold the answers to all the questions in the known universe. Her zeal is refreshing, and a bit infectious.
“Victims are shifters, witches, and Fae between the ages of twenty-two and thirty-five, with a median age of twenty-eight. All have either green or amber eyes, long hair, and no tattoos at the time of their abductions. All have verified credit card charges at supernatural bars or clubs in the week prior to their disappearance.”
The computer displays the list of bars for every city, and I curse under my breath. Each city has at least three different establishments listed, some as many as five.
I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the short strands to help me focus. “That does not give us enough information to figure out if Regina is likely to return to Loup Noir or not.” Meeting Zoe’s gaze, I arch a brow. Time to see if she is confident in her own deductive reasoning. “What do your instincts tell you? Will she try somewhere else? Or stay with an establishment she knows?”
“You’re more likely to be able to answer that than I am.” With a frown, Zoe peers at another screen with a list of San Francisco’s twenty-seven separate bars and clubs that cater to the other. “But whatever we decide, I think we should stick together.” Her tone is firm, but her green eyes hold understanding without a hint of judgment.
“If we split up, we can cover more ground.” The last thing I want is her investigating on her own, but nor do I want her to be seen with me. Of the establishments on the list, I count three Regina would never visit, including the poshest bar in the city, the Top of the Mark. If I sent Zoe there, she’d be safe, and I would be able to hunt. Alone.
She spreads her hands flat on the table between us and arches a brow while pinning me with a hard stare. “No. Didn’t you listen to the victim profile, Sin? Regina’s looking for women exactly like me. Green eyes. Long hair. No tattoos. At bars that cater to the other. And I know what she looks like. I can help you trap her. And stop her from taking someone else.”
Fuck.
“I know,” I snap. “For the love of all that is holy in this world, Zoe, I know. Which is why I do not want you with me. You have no defenses against Regina, and if you are caught unawares, you could disappear before I would be able to stop her! I would never forgive myself if I lost you.”
“If you lost me? Sin, you don’t have me to lose. We’re partners. Nothing more.” Wariness infuses her tone, and her denial makes me want to punch something. Or wrap her in my arms.
I push up and start to pace the long, narrow conference room. “If Thorn has escaped Hell, everything he has done since that day is my fault.”
“Why? You sent him to Hell, right? How is what happened afterwards in any way on you?” She rounds the table and, hands on her hips, stops right in front of me. “He’s the bad guy. Well, so’s Regina, but still. You were a victim. It’s time you realize that.”
“I. Helped. Them.” I do not know how else to convey the depths of my guilt. I cannot tell her all the things I did under his influence. All the young women I tortured until they begged me to kill them. All the men I lured into the shadows so Regina could use her charms to compel them into obedience.
“You—“
The air in the room crackles, and I grab Zoe a split second before a blast of percussive energy shoves us both against the wall. Had I been any slower, her head would have hit the large computer screens, and unlike my own corporeal body, hers would have broken in several places.
“Sin?” Zoe’s voice trembles, and she clutches my arms as she blinks hard to focus. “What just happened?”
“Agent Zoe Dawes,” I say as I brush a thick, auburn curl away from her face. “You are about to meet your first archangel.”