Page 3 of Alice Worth and the Elite Death Machine

“Could Sean track it? Or someone else from the pack?”

“I can certainly ask, but Sean doesn’t really work with magic and spellwork like we do. He might recognize it, though. An alpha werewolf has extra senses.”

I captured some of the strange trace in one of the crystals on my bracelet. Though my crystals were primarily designed to store natural magic like Malcolm and I had, I always kept two handy spelled to catch other kinds. A mage PI ran into unexpected magic all the time.

“You know,” Malcolm said as I stuck the crystal in my pocket, “if someone sent the soldier after the EDM, and the EDM is John Adams, whoever sent the soldier might send someone else. And that person might be able to track this weird trace.”

“That is a good point.” I hummed as I thought. “I don’t want anyone finding John Adams before we do.”

“You want me to disperse this trace?”

“Let’s do that, just to be safe.”

He snorted. “You have a much different definition ofsafethan most people, Alice.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a relative term.”

“Not one ofyourrelatives.” He winced. “Oops. Didn’t mean to bring up your relatives.”

“It’s okay.” Not his fault my mother’s side of the family happened to be mostly killers and psychopaths. “If you can take care of the trace, I’ll start searching the rest of the suite.”

“Done deal.”

The smell of ozone rolled through the room as Malcolm went to work painstakingly dispersing the shifter magic. Meanwhile, I opened drawers and doors, checked possible hiding places for things John Adams might have left behind, and looked for any other remaining trace.

Twenty-some minutes later, Malcolm and I finished our search. Other than the rumpled bedding, the dead guy, and the weird shifter trace, this suite contained no sign that anyone hadstayed here, despite the fact its occupant was known to have been in the room for several days before his disappearance. John Adams had not left a single thing behind other than that bit of trace. Even the trash cans were empty, their liners taken. The lack of clues and the condition of the suite told me a lot.

“John Adams moves fast,” I told Malcolm as we stood in the living room. “My instincts tell me he travels very light, ready to bug out the second he feels his neck prickling. He leaves virtually no trace of where he’s been and no clues as to where he’s going. He’s been doing it for a long time, which means he’s good at it.”

“How do you know he’s good at it?”

“Because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t still be alive. Not with people like the soldier and/or the EDM on his tail.”

“So we’re on the trail of a professional ghost—so to speak.” Malcolm pondered that. “But is John Adams the hunter or the hunted?”

I pictured the shredded demon in the bathtub. “Well, pardner,” I said, “I think he’s both.”

Chapter

Two

Normally at this time of night I’d have to drive all the way home to see Sean, but he happened to be working late on a job site in town. Maclin Security had the good problem of more business than it could handle these days, but that meant late nights and overnight work, even for the bosses.

Unlike his business partner Ron, who preferred staying in the office, Sean enjoyed working in the field. He got restless behind a desk. Plus, installations of security systems and bodyguard duty were close enough to a hunt for his wolf to enjoy. Sorting out problems of any kind, whether they were furry, armed, or electronic, got a shifter’s blood pumping.

I found my honey bunny atop a ladder in the lobby of a posh private medical office that was closed for the night, his head and upper torso hidden in the ceiling. The plush carpet muffled my steps, so I had the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him in jeans and a clingy shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Yum.

“Quit drooling,” Malcolm muttered. “Good lord, you act like he’s catnip.”

“I am.” Sean’s voice drifted down from inside the ceiling. “At least, that’s what I like to think my consort believes.”

“Your consort does in fact think you’re catnip.” I leaned against the reception desk. “Is this a bad time?”

“Never a bad time to get a visit from my favorite mage.” Sean emerged from the ceiling and gave me that smile I loved so much—the one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Hey, Miss Magic. How’d you sneak in?”

“Hey, Wolf.” I met him at the foot of the ladder. “Ben let me in the side door.”

My dark-haired werewolf towered over me by about a foot, even when I wore my favorite boots. His brown eyes had the telltale golden flecks and sheen of a shifter. He pulled me close for a kiss, then sniffed my hair and growled quietly. “Demon blood and decomp. What have you been up to this evening?”

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