Embraced By Darkness (Riley Jenson Guardian 5)

I read it out, then peered inside the car while I was waiting. Two warm winter coats had been thrown across the backseat, the vibrant red of one suggesting it belonged to a woman, while the other was definitely male in design. There was also an umbrella and several newspapers.

"Okay," Sal said. "That plate belongs to a green BMW, registered to one Li am Barry."

So it did belong to the victim's fiance. "Could you do a background check on him? I think he might be the boyfriend of our victim, as well as her murderer."

"A lovers' tiff?"

"Trust me, this was more than a tiff."

"It'd have to be, otherwise we wouldn't have been called in."

True. "Can you get that information to me as soon as you have it?"

"I'll think about it, wolf girl."

I didn't bite, just hung up. I set the phone to record then did a slow walk around the car, detailing how I'd found it and who it belonged to. Then I placed the phone on top of a fence post, stripped off my coat, and used it as a shield as I smashed the front passenger window. Though I'm not sure why I bothered - a few more glass cuts surely wouldn't have made much difference to my already impressive array.

Glass sprayed over the seats, glinting brightly in the cold morning light. I shook the coat free of glass, then dumped it on top of the car and opened the passenger-side door.

The car smelled of leather, musk, and the tangy, flowery scent of perfume. The date on the newspaper was yesterday's, and it was the Age rather than the Herald-Sun. Upmarket rather than mass-market.

I reached for the man's jacket and sniffed it. The scent was musky, entwined in an earthy, piney aroma. Not an upmarket man when it came to cologne, obviously. Either that, or the girlfriend had bought it and he was just wearing it for her sake.

I took another sniff, just to clarify the scent in my mind, then checked the rest of the car. There didn't seem to be anything more than the usual rubbish that collected in cars - CDs, candy wrappers, and dirt.

No indication of drugs or alcohol. Nothing that would explain his sudden, violent outburst.

I closed the door, stopped recording, then called the cow to have the car picked up for closer forensic inspection.

Then I shoved the phone in my pocket, grabbed my coat, and headed back to the house. The bird-shifter was squatting in the doorway, carefully placing a piece of bloodied skin in a bag.

"Could you tell Cole I've just fouled one of his crime scenes?"

"Cole will not be pleased," the shifter said, voice gruff and somewhat harsh. Oddly enough - although perhaps not, given he was a bird-shifter - it reminded me of an eagle's call.

"Yeah, I know," I said, with a grin. "Tell him the green BMW with the smashed side window is the fiance's. I've already asked for a pickup."

"Will do," he said, still concentrating on whatever was on the floor more than me.

"And keep an eye on this jacket, will you? I need something to change into after the shift."

He grunted, making me wonder if anything I was saying was actually registering. I dumped my jacket over the fence, then called to the wolf within.

Power swept around me, through me, blurring my vision, blurring the pain. Clothing disappeared into the magic as limbs shortened, shifted, and rearranged, until what was standing on the footpath was wolf not woman.

I nosed around the gateway and, through the many scents that crowded my olfactory senses, found the one I was hunting for.

With my nose to the ground, I followed. The chill wind ruffled my fur but did little to affect the trail. Liam obviously hadn't run after he'd murdered his girlfriend - not if these spoors were anything to go by. Running steps tended to be longer, the distance between each step - and therefore each scent mark - greater.

Liam had walked. Casually, unhurriedly. As if he hadn't a care in the world, despite all the blood that must have covered him.

I followed the trail into Rose Street, then crossed another road and found myself in a park. Trees lined the rim of the park, and seemed to snake through the middle. Liam didn't stay on any of the well-worn tracks, instead heading for a small but thick clump of trees in the middle.

It was there I found him.

Only he was well and truly dead. I stopped and shifted back into human form. After tying together the ends of my torn shirt - for some reason, shirts and the more delicate fabrics like lace didn't seem to handle the shifting as well as jeans - I took out my phone, hit record, and made a brief report. Then I set it down and squatted beside the body.

Liam had died with a look of shock and agony on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open, and if it were possible for the smell of terror to linger on a body, then it did here.