Deadly Desire (Riley Jenson Guardian 7)

"What is this all about, Ms. Jenson?" Habbsheen was propped in the doorway and basically blocked our exit.

"As I said, we're here about your son."

"Our son is dead. What possible interest can he have to the Directorate?"

"Your son may be dead, but we've reason to believe he has been raised from the grave."

He didn't blink, didn't react in any normal way. But then, I wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know. "No one can raise the dead, Ms. Jenson."

"Certain sorcerers can."

"Magic doesn't exist."

"As vampires and werewolves don't exist?" I gave him a polite smile. "Mr. Habbsheen, the body you harbor is not your son. It is simply reanimated flesh that remains in control of the person who raised it."

"Ms. Jenson, I told you. Our son is not here."

"Oh, I agree, your son isn't here. However, his reanimated flesh is. We can smell him," I added softly.

"And what if he is?" Tension rolled across his shoulders and crossed arms, and again the scent of his anger flowed around his. "He's done no harm. We've done no harm."

Kye didn't respond to the growing threat in Habbsheen's stance, and yet I felt the tension in him rise. Felt his readiness to move.

"That thing you're protecting murdered a teenager last night. It slashed her throat then sucked the blood from her body."

The blood seemed to flow from his face. "Rob wouldn't do that."

"Rob probably wouldn't have. But as I've said, that's not Rob down there. Not anymore."

His mouth tightened. "I don't believe you. Get out."

"I'm afraid we can't leave without Rob's body."

"And I can't let you leave with it."

I didn't have the chance to reply, because Kye was suddenly past me, launching himself bodily at the other man. The two of them crashed into the far wall of the hallway, denting the plaster and sending a white puff of debris into the air.

"Go," Kye said, as he grappled with the other man.

I jumped over them, avoiding Habbsheen's flailing arms and running down the hallway, following the aroma of decay. It led me through a kitchen and on into a laundry. The scent of female sharpened abruptly, seemingly surrounding me even though there was no one but me in the room. I reached for the back door, but at the last moment became aware of air stirring, and of something approaching the back of my head.

Fast.

I dropped hard, jarring my knees on the tiled floor. The axe aimed at my head embedded itself into the wall instead, the force behind the blow enough that the whole metal head buried itself deep into the plaster.

I swung around, sweeping out with a leg, knocking the woman off her feet. She screamed as she went down, but it was a sound filled with fury rather than pain.

I grabbed her legs, pinning them under mine, but her arms were another thing. She screamed and bit and flailed like a mad thing, her blue eyes wide and without any sense.

A wolf protecting her cub, whatever the cost.

"Damn it," I yelled, as her nails raked my arms. "It's not your son down there. You buried him. It's just flesh that resembles him. Nothing more, nothing less."

She didn't say anything, just kept on fighting.

I avoided another blow, then drew back my fist and hit her hard. Not enough to truly hurt her, but enough to knock her out.

When her body went limp, I blew out a breath and studied the shadows out of which she'd come. A small trapdoor led down into deeper darkness-and it was here that the aroma of decay was coming from.