Black Wings, Gray Skies (Black Hat Bureau 4)

An expression caught between exasperation and affection softened his features. “All right.”

“I’m not as big or as bad as I used to be, but I can hold my own.”

“I know.”

“Then why try to ditch me?”

“You know how you wish Colby didn’t have to see the things she does?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t wish this—any of this—on you either.”

Much as Colby had said to me, I found it no less true in my case. “It helps, making a difference.”

Good deeds accumulated going forward might never outweigh the bad things scattered behind me, but I had to do what I could to balance the scales. I expected no afterlife, no eternal reward, but Colby was linked to me through the familiar bond, and I would do my best to earn her a spot in whatever hereafter suited her.

Asa pressed his warm lips to my forehead, then we turned and began retracing our steps.

The creature, whatever it was, must have been startled by our passing and carried away its prey.

A familiar pattern darkened the asphalt, marking the attack, but the wet pool was only six inches across.

Asa crouched near the blood and took a sample from a tiny kit he kept in his jacket pocket.

“The killer was here.” I was getting ahead of myself, and I didn’t care. “We walked right by them.”

About the time I was ready to throw back my head and scream at my own stupidity, I smelled it.

Viscera. Magic. Death.

A yowling lament raised the hairs on my nape, and then, six yards away, I saw it.

A cat.

Well, sort of.

The creature moved wrong, its gait loose and wobbly, and its skin wasn’t right. Its orange fur was striped with red, like slashes from a giant paw. Each step jarred its body, causing a slinky effect as its pelt bunched and released over its spine. Except I saw through the bands of flesh to the alley behind it. It had no bones. With its hide slipping and sliding over air, it was a small miracle it held a recognizable shape.

“I was running low on nightmare fodder.” I ventured closer, Asa beside me. “Thanks, cat.”

The cat meowed, as if it understood, as if it had vocal cords, which only added to its freak show vibe.

Gaze pinned on the target, I asked Asa, “Can you tell if this cat slinky matches the blood?”

Flames leapt over his skin, and the daemon bared his teeth at the animal, hissing as it drew closer.

“It match.” The daemon kept his eyes locked on the animal. “Bad kitty.”

The kitty in question slowed its rolling gait, gave its skin time to catch up to the rest of it, then sat.

“Hello.” I watched the beast for signs of aggression. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

Like why its magic smelled like our killer, similar but not quite the same.

Then again, this was an animal. Not a human like the other victims we had encountered so far.

The difference in species, and the amount of magic required to peel the skin, differed greatly.