Chapter 2
“Oh god,” I said, and immediately backed away. Unfortunately, I couldn’t retreat far, because Azriel was right behind me. I might as well have backed into a concrete wall. “She could have mentioned some kind of spider got him. I hate spiders.”
“Whatever was responsible for this death was something more than just a spider,” he commented, a slight trace of amusement in his voice.
I scowled up at him. “You think?”
He obviously didn’t catch the sarcasm, because he added, “Either that, or this was the work of a multitude of spiders, and the pristine nature of this house precludes that possibility.”
A multitude of spiders . . . A shudder went through me at the thought. I rubbed my arms and forced my feet forward again. Wolfgang had died lounging comfortably on the well-padded leather sofa that wrapped around the corner of the room. He was fully clothed, though his shirt was undone to his belly button, and his tie and shoes lay on the floor near the coffee table. His feet were crossed at the ankles, and there was a dreamy, relaxed expression frozen on the remains of his face. He’d obviously died totally unaware that anything untoward was happening.
The web that encased him was anchored to the floor near his feet, then spun up his legs and along the entire length of his torso, enclosing his arms and his body in a fine, transparent filament. Two tears on either side of his belly button indicated the puncture site and, if the size of those wounds was anything to go by, we were dealing with a damn big spider.
Another shudder ran through me. I took a deep breath that did little to ease the growing sense of horror, then stopped near his feet and flared my nostrils, drawing in the air and sorting through the scents. That odd, alien aroma was stronger here, but it didn’t appear to be coming from the body itself but rather the surrounding air. It was as if the scent of the creature had so heavily perfumed the room that it lingered long after it had gone.
I hesitated, then tentatively prodded the silvery casing with a stiffened finger. It wasn’t sticky as I’d expected, and felt a little like plastic—almost as if it had hardened in the air. I leaned a little closer to inspect the wounds. Other than a slight discoloring around the edges of the punctures, there was little blood, but the wounds themselves suggested the creature’s fangs were at least as thick as my fist.
It was going to take more than one can of fly spray to get rid of this damn spider.
I closed my eyes, took another deep, shuddering breath, then said, “What do you know about spiderlike spirits or demons?”
“I believe there is a spirit known as the Jorõgumo, but I know nothing about them.” Azriel moved around the coffee table, then stopped opposite me, his eyes slightly narrowed as he studied Wolfgang’s remains. Power shimmered through the air, sharp and almost bitter in the stillness. It died just as quickly, and his gaze met mine. “There is no brain left in this body, so I cannot read what memories might have remained.”
“Hunter did say everything had been sucked away.” My gaze rose to Wolfgang’s face, which was free of the transparent net. “Is there any way you can find out more about Jorõgumos? I mean, I can Google them, but I can’t imagine Google being a reliable source of information when it comes to facts about spirits.”
“I can ask, but Mijai fight demons, not spirits.”
Meaning I’d probably have to rely on earthbound resources. Perhaps the Brindle witches could help. I frowned. “Why hasn’t his body collapsed in on itself?”
“I cannot say. I am not an expert on spirits, let alone spiders.”
“And when it comes to spiders, my knowledge stops at either avoiding them, or killing the fuckers on sight.”
I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes gone and, so far, we’d discovered nothing Hunter hadn’t already known. I looked around the room, hoping there was something that jumped up and screamed clue. As usual, fate wasn’t being overly helpful.
I spotted his jacket flung over one of the kitchen chairs and walked over to pick it up. His keys were in the left front pocket, and his wallet was in one of the inside ones. Opening the latter revealed his driver’s license, several platinum credit cards, and at least five hundred dollars in cash. Robbery obviously wasn’t a motive—which was an odd thought when related to spiders or spirits, but perhaps not if we were dealing with some sort of shifter.
Frowning, I put his wallet back and went through the rest of his pockets. The only other thing to be found was a business card for some place called Dark Soul. I flicked it over, but the back was empty. God, I thought, this had better not be another fucking blood whore club. I’d had more than enough of them lately to last a lifetime. I placed the card back where I’d found it, then did a search of the rest of the house. As I expected, I found absolutely nothing.
This was useless—and I told Hunter as much when I went outside to call her back.
“I do not care what you think in regards to the viability of this task,” she snapped. The vid-screen had been turned off at her end, and I couldn’t help but be a little thankful for that. I had the distinct impression her expression would not have been pleasant. “I merely want your impressions of the kill.”
I couldn’t see the point of that, either, given my impressions were unlikely to be any different from hers, but I took a deep breath and said, “He was killed by something that appears to have spiderlike tendencies. There’s a musky scent in the air that is not dissimilar to the musk of shifters, but if it is a shifter, then it’s one I’ve not come across before.” My voice was as sharp as hers, which probably wasn’t wise given all the shit I’d said earlier, but then, she was on the other end of the phone rather than in person, so she could hardly smack me down. Not immediately, anyway. “I didn’t find anything that hinted at who or what else might have been here, but Azriel said there are spider spirits known as Jorõgumos, so it’s possible we’re dealing with one of those. I did find a business card for someplace called Dark Soul.”
“That is—was—one of his favorite music venues. He’d been planning to go there last night.”
“Why was he carrying one of their business cards if he went there regularly?”
“I don’t know.”
Color me shocked, I wanted to snap, but wisely resisted the urge. “So he might have picked up his killer there?”
“Possibly. Dark Soul is not a vampire venue. It caters to all races who enjoy alternative music.”
“Well, it wasn’t a human who killed him.” Not unless Spider-Man was fact rather than fiction.
“Of course not,” she said coolly. “Wolfgang was a powerful vampire. He would not have been taken easily by anyone—or any race.”
And yet he’d sat there and allowed himself to be bound by a web and then sucked dry. I rubbed my arms against the chill that stole across my skin. How could anyone—powerful or not—allow something like that?
“Which means either he was drugged, or there was some form of magic involved.” And if it was the former, was there enough of him left to find a trace of it?
“Yes.” Hunter’s voice still held little emotion, yet it hinted at a fury so deep it scared the hell out of me. “Which is why I wanted you to investigate. Whatever did this was not of this world. I’m sure of it. I want you to hunt it down, but do not kill it. That pleasure I reserve for myself.”
Well, I wasn’t about to argue over that particular order. “If we can find this thing, it’s all yours.”
“Oh, you had better find it, trust me.” She paused, as if waiting for a comment, but what the hell was I supposed to say to a threat like that? After a moment, she continued. “I will arrange for you to talk to Dark Soul’s owner and view their security tapes. Perhaps we can identify who—if anyone—he was there with.”
“They’re hardly likely to talk to me, given I’m not anything official—”
“That will be fixed,” she cut in. “Keep me informed.”
She hung up again. My fingers clenched the phone so tightly, my knuckles went white, and it was all I could do not to throw the damn thing and then stomp all over it in frustration.
Azriel plucked it from my fingers. “Temper tantrums, as I believe you would call such an action, will do no good. And it may well destroy a perfectly usable device.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever had a good temper tantrum?”
Amusement lurked in the rich depths of his mismatched blue eyes. “No. But I do believe that the longer I reside in your presence, the more it becomes a possibility.”
I snorted softly. “You could be right. And for future reference, a well-timed temper tantrum is a very good form of stress release.”
“Meaning, I’m wrong in believing there might be more pleasing alternatives than throwing a tantrum?”
I arched an eyebrow and stepped a little closer, but any reply I might have made was cut short as my phone rang. A quick look showed that it was Stane—Tao’s cousin, and a black marketer who just happened to be able to hack into any computer system ever created. It was an ability I’d made full use of when it came to Hunter’s cases as well as the search for the keys. I half thought about ignoring the call just to continue the gently teasing conversation with Azriel, but I knew Stane wouldn’t be ringing unless he’d uncovered something important.
“Hey,” I said, by way of greeting. “What’s the latest?”
“Well, let’s see,” he said, the rich tones of his voice more gravelly than usual. He’d obviously been hitting the online gaming hard again. “My mother is insisting I meet the daughter of her best friend and has in fact arranged a double date for this evening. And I believe I have found that storage locker you were looking for.”
I blinked at the dual information and decided to tackle the juicier one first. “A double date?”
“Yeah, the mothers are coming. Won’t that be fun?”
