Page 41 of Faerie Gift

So how did shifters keep showing up at the academy when they weren’t allowed? Were not simply disliked but activelyloathed? How? And why? I didn’t understand. There were clues piling up, evidence to be examined, but none of it made sense. Someone was killing people, and this recent body confirmed the killer to be a shifter.

Something wolfish was clearly happening. Faeries didn’teatpeople. Someone should call Detective Wilson.

Terror snaked through me, manifesting as a numbing cold. A clammy chill stretching past my skin and into my bones. I drew the collar of my jacket higher and stayed close to Mike, holding onto his waist and looking at the floor instead of the body. My imagination tried to paint a lovely picture of Mike whisking me away and kissing me senseless to help me forget this tragedy.

The continued screams snapped that image immediately. Great.

Why had the murder happened while I’d been poking around the exchange student corridor? I knew it was a fresh kill. I didn’t need to look closer to know that.

There were students crying hysterically. They bawled and screamed and some walked off to throw up. I didn’t blame them. I was used to the kill, yet still this bothered me, not only because I’d just seen Professor Reeds but because the killer had been here. Right here. Might even still be here.

We’d taken care of Roman. Now we faced another killer. Who would it be this time? Another friend we’d have to reassess as an enemy? Or was it someone not on campus, sneaking in and somehow eluding the various spells and wards?

“Come on,” Mike urged. “Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing we can do.” His hand rubbed a circle on my back.

I remembered Wilson’s advice to run if I came across another murder. But how could I? Especially when I knew in my bones this was the work of a shifter.

“I think I’ll stick around. We were close by when it happened. Once the cops arrive, I figure we’re going to get questioned anyway. People saw us here,” I said. “You’re not exactly inconspicuous.” Neither was I with my red hair, but whatever.

Mike nodded, tall enough he could rest his chin on my head if he wanted to. He did not. “You’re right. Still…we don’t have to stand quite so close to the guy.”

It was only a matter of time before Headmaster Leaves arrived, storming down the hallway, and his sound of surprise and dismay was enough to give me a headache. The cops were called and it didn’t take long for them to get here, either.

Luckily, formeanyway, Detective Wilson led the brigade, making sure he didn’t meet my eyes as he and his fellow policemen covered the body and cordoned off the crime scene.

It wouldn’t look good for either of us if he showed me any special treatment. He barked out orders to coworker and student alike, telling us not to go anywhere. Like I didn’t know already.

The two of us now sat side by side in the hallway with the wall pressed to our backs and our arms touching. Wilson walked along the corridor as if he owned it. Others might think his swagger nothing but arrogance. It was, to a certain extent. Most shifters thought rather highly of themselves as a general rule, but a big head only accounted for a fraction of the energy Wilson put off. He was confident in himself and his ability to close this case. Each move he made around the crime scene contained a certain intelligent efficiency. Decisive. Dedicated. If anyone stood in his way, he didn’t have the slightest problem with pushing them right out of it again.

Had he found something this time?

The students sensed it, not knowing his status as werewolf, and rallied behind his fellow officers to do what was necessary. Part of Wilson’s gift, I mused. He could walk into a room of hysterical victims and get them to spill their secrets in seconds. He was dangerous.

And I knew I could trust him.

“He’s the same man who headed the last investigation, isn’t he?” Mike asked, jerking his head toward Wilson and his crew.

“Yes, he is the same one,” I agreed with Mike.

Neither one of us mentioned Roman.

“He’ll do a good job, then.”

“I’m sure he will. He’s used to these kinds of things.”

Mike turned to face me. “These kinds of things?”

I had spilled the beans about finding the last body, the Canadian chaperone, yet hadn’t told Mike about talking to Wilson.

“Well, yeah. Murders.” What had Mike expected me to say? “He’s a detective for a reason.”

Mike’s expression softened. “Oh. Right, of course.”

This was a screwed-up night. Full of unpredictable magic and riddled with mysteries going nowhere. No answers to be found. I felt like my life had gone out of control, like some kind of mutated growth inside a body, and there were no solutions in sight.

Luckily Mike wasn’t prone to hysteria. He wouldn’t let me go too far without reeling me back in. “What do you think happened?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I think it has something to do with the lady I found weeks ago. And with the exchange students.”

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