“Why would I do that?”
Edward had always had the annoying habit of answering questions with questions, which weren’t really answers at all.
“You will report back to me in a month,” the old man said. “With detailed directions to his lair.”
Alex bristled. She couldn’t help it. “And if I don’t?”
“Until you give me what I want, I will not give you what you want.” He shrugged. “Remain furry as long as you like.”
He had her and he knew it. She would do his bidding as quickly as she could, if only to get rid of her tendency to grow a tail.
“How am I going to find this guy,” Alex murmured, “if the great and powerful Mandenauer couldn’t?”
Instead of responding, Edward shot her with the damn dart gun again. Alex wanted to grab the thing and shoot him, see how he liked it. But whatever was in those darts worked fast. Everything shimmied.
As she slid to the floor, Edward’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Don’t worry, Alex. He will find you.”
Chapter 3
“Alexandra.”
Something wailed in her ears, so shrill, so loud, she’d never be able to go back to sleep. But she couldn’t seem to stay awake, either.
“Alexandra!” Shake, shake. “The police are coming.”
Whoever was doing the shaking stopped and slapped her across the face. Alex’s eyes snapped opened; Julian Barlow hovered over her.
“Wha—?”
She was confused, dopey, but things started to come back. The gun, the dart, Edward’s words.
He will find you.
The old man had been right again.
She sat up, then clutched her head. What the hell had he shot her with that time? If she ever saw Edward again, she was going to—
Alex wasn’t sure what. But something painful.
She glanced down and a low moan escaped. Not because she was still naked, but because she was still naked and covered in blood.
Her head cleared at the sight, and she peered around the room, which appeared to have been prepped for a scene in Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Return.
The trussed man lay on the floor. From the amount of blood on the guy, he was dead. From the amount on Alex, she’d killed him.
Or at least that was what Barlow was supposed to believe. Alex didn’t remember doing it, and there was one thing that made her almost certain she hadn’t—the voodoo curse that had removed the desire to commit evil acts.
But was killing a very bad man an evil act? Hard to say.
Someone had killed the guy. The situation smelled to high heaven of Edward—king of the setup. Except—
Would Edward murder a man just to cement Alex’s cover? That she wasn’t quite sure disturbed her. She was starting to wonder just who was possessed by a demon around here.
“Put this on.” Barlow shoved a pair of sweats and a T-shirt into Alex’s hands as she stood. Both read UCLA and looked much worse for someone else’s wear. They didn’t smell too bad, yet she hesitated. The thought of putting clothes over all the blood nauseated her, and besides—
There was another way to escape.
The change rippled beneath her skin, calling to her, tempting her with the promise of speed and power. She took a deep breath and caught the scent of trees; her eyes drifted closed and—