Page 45 of Dance With Death

“But I would very much like to meet them,” I reply.

“Her parents are not receptive to anybody from the academy currently,” says the female nurse. “Staff or student.”

“Follow,” demands Harding, and I arch a brow at him. “I’ll allow you access to Holly, with Detective Wagner and myself present in the room, if you speak to me. Informally.”

“Yeah, right, totally off the record,” mutters Leif as we follow them.

16

The detectives take us to a room containing uncomfortable metal chairs with thinly upholstered seats and a selection of geographical magazines on a low table. Empty and half-empty plastic cups and soda cans are strewn around, despite a wastepaper basket in easy distance from any part of the room. I’ve recently concluded that using trash cans is a skill that must be taught, and many humans fail the class.

“What are you doing?” asks Harding as I gather the cups.

“I dislike disorder,” I say, and I drop them into the plastic-lined basket, then wrinkle my nose at the sticky coffee circles on the table.

“We have questions,” says Harding.

“As do I.”

“Violet. Sit down,” says Leif as I take a position by the open door.

“No. I’d like to keep an eye on the happenings in a place that collects sick people. One that shuts humans away inside rooms that few are permitted to enter.”

“A hospital ward,” says Rowan. “To help them.”

“Have you an assessment of Holly’s injuries?” I ask Wagner. “Nobody updated Rowan last night, apart from confirming her injuries are serious but not life-threatening.”

“Are you here as pretend detectives or concerned friends?” he replies.

“Or an attacker who’d like to use her magic skills on Holly before anybody can talk to her?” adds Harding.

As my jaw and fists tighten, a wave of Rowan’s magic pushes towards me. Don’t let them taunt you.

I throw Rowan a look. He’s aware I hate him communicating in this way. And I am not moving from this door, which offers a vantage point of both directions along the hallway, including to the place where the elevators stop.

“Did Holly show any signs of strange behavior yesterday evening?” asks Harding as he sits.

“Yes. Lying in the woods with her chest partially torn open.”

Air hisses through Leif’s teeth. “Violet.”

“Did any of you witness odd behavior yesterday or in the days leading up to her attack?” he continues.

Such as missing from the academy? They don’t know.

“Not especially,” I reply, and the others voice their agreement. “Tell me about the shifter.”

Harding’s lips pull into a thin line. “We originally believed he was a wolf.”

“Excuse me? What a ridiculous conclusion. Wolves are not native to the area. Shifters are,” I reply.

“And shifters don’t normally remain in animal form when they die,” he retorts. “The shifter community hadn’t reported a missing person, and believe me, the elders are in my station and in my face at any inkling a shifter may be hurt or missing.”

“So how did you establish the attacker wasn’t a wolf?” asks Leif.

“Animal control removed the animal’s corpse to their premises, and the veterinarian received a minor surprise this morning when he found a naked male in the room. Deceased.” With every word Wagner says, he scrutinizes all our faces further.

“Why are you telling us what must be confidential information?” Rowan asks.

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