Page 3 of Shadow Scorching

I froze. The name echoed in my mind. “You mean…Jace? The Jace that killed my mother?”

I’d been trying to track him down for the past couple years since I’d first opened my business. I didn’t have much to go on. I’d seen his police photo. He’d killed other women before he got to my mother, but he continually managed to evade cops and they finally said he must have left the area since they’d found no other victims since her death.

Benny nodded. “He’s back, and I know where he is. I was talking to a couple friends—goblins. One of them said his wife had accepted a ride with some guy and…long story short, he tried to kidnap her, she managed to get out, but only after she found out his name was Jace. The freak was positive she couldn’t escape, so he proceeded to describe what he was planning on doing to her. He let it slip that his last kill in this area was some waitress who had a half-demon kid.”

I sat still, but I wanted to jump up and head for the door with an axe. I needed him to hurt. Removing limbs one by one would satisfy that need.

“Where is he?” I took a shallow breath, gripping the edge of my desk. “Did she go to the cops?”

“Are you kidding? She’s agoblin. The cops would listen to a meth-head before they’d listen to a goblin. Her husband and his buddy were planning on taking him out, but she begged them to drop an anonymous tip with the cops, because she’s afraid that her husband would get hurt.” Benny returned to his chair, then let out a long sigh.

“Where is he?”I could barely trust myself to speak.

“Why not call the cops? I’ll give you the information and you can call them.” His voice was shaking. “Kyann, don’t do this. You have so much going for you. Don’t do something you won’t be able to live with.”

I sat there, thinking for a moment. “My mother did everything she could to keep me going, to get me an education. We were poor, but happy. Give me the address.Now.”

Benny licked his lips. “All right. But Kyann, promise me you’ll think before you do anything? Promise me that you’ll at least tell Dante, or Penelope.”

I still couldn’t move, but I quietly said, “I promise. But I want that information.”

And so, he gave me Jace’s address.

Two hours later, I left a message on Penn’s phone, telling her what had happened, and that if I hadn’t checked in by midnight, to tell the cops to check on me. Then, I headed out for Jace’s place. He was staying in a dingy little house, out on the edge of Shoreline.

As I pulled into his driveway, the lights in the house were on and there was a car in the driveway. I parked a half a block away, then slipped on a pair of gloves and jogged toward the house. As I neared the tiny lot, I crept into the yard and around back, eying the single-story house. It should be easy to break into. If I played my cards right, I should be able to surprise him.

The back door was locked, but I was an expert at picking locks, and it took me less than thirty seconds to open it. I stood there for a moment, hiding to the side so I couldn’t be seen, debating. Did I really want to do this? Maybe Benny was right. Maybe I should call the cops and let them handle it.

As well as they handled it when he murdered my mother?In the back of my mind, a little voice began to whisper.What if he gets away? What if he skips town again and goes on to kill more women? Surely he hasn’t quit—surely he’s been killing women all along?

I eased open the door. From inside, I could hear a woman whimpering.Crap.

“I know it hurts,” a man’s voice said. “But I promise—it’s going to hurt a lot more before we’re done. I guarantee it.” He sounded gleeful.

Again, the whimpering, and I realized that she must be gagged from the muffled sounds she made. I slipped inside and shut the back door as I withdrew my dagger. I found myself in a galley kitchen. The appliances and counters looked old, but everything was incredibly neat and clean. The dishes were drying in a rack on the counter, the tea towels were neatly folded. There wasn’t a speck of crumbs on the counter or in the sink.

The sounds echoed in from behind a door leading to another room. I inched over and peeked around the corner. The living room…empty.

Where were they? I looked around, confused. My hearing was excellent, so where were they? I began to search the room when I noticed a grill on the ceiling. It was a heating vent, and the voices were coming from there.

They must be up in the attic.

I began searching for an entrance. It took me about ten minutes to find the ceiling panel that led up to the attic. It was shut, which presented a problem. If it had been open, I could have easily sneaked my way in, but with it closed, I was going to have to open it. Who knew how close to the entrance Jace was standing.

I found a stick with a hook on the end of it sitting in the corner. The hook was the right size and shape to fit through the ring on the attic panel. In case there was no ladder, I carried over a step stool from the kitchen. I was near panic—the whimpers were getting stronger—but charging into the midst of whatever was happening wasn’t going to help.

I eased the stick up, catching hold of the ring attached to the panel. Slowly, I pulled, hoping that the hinges didn’t need oil, or that the panel wouldn’t fall and make noise. But to my relief, it was hinged to the ceiling and silently opened. A ladder dropped down. I waited for some sound from above that might tell mewhether he had seen it or not. A moment later, when nothing happened and the voices continued, I slowly began to climb the rungs.

As I peeked above the opening, I saw a small, dimly lit room, and a closed door. It was from behind the door that the voices were coming. I lightly swung over the top, into the room, glancing around. There was nothing but a few trunks scattered around.

I advanced on the door, stun gun in one hand. After a deep breath, I slammed open the door.

A woman struggled on a bed. She was tied spread eagle, gagged, and her clothes were scattered on the floor. Bruises covered her stomach and legs, and long, blonde hair coiled down across her shoulders. Her eyes were red and puffy, and told me he’d already hurt her. How much damage he’d done, I didn’t know. But she was hurting and he was enjoying himself.

And, there he was. Jace. I flashed back to the cops telling me my mother had been killed. Thiswasthe man in the picture they’d shown me.

“Who the fuck—” Looking more angry than shocked, he dropped the camera he’d been using to take pictures.Souvenirs.

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