Blue Moon Rising (The Patroness) (6 page)

“Okay.” I went into my room to get my laptop and the evidence bag, and then sat down beside him to show him the pictures of the crime scene.

Pauline got up.
“Coffee anyone?”

“Would be great, thanks.”

Kylian was so fast to answer that I had to grin
. “Jetlag, huh
?”

He just nodded and I got back to the problem at hand. “The wounds showed the use of multiple weapons, I’d even say surgical instruments. Swords were used to cut off their heads. But there’s more, I noticed something very interesting. Each victim had a symbol burned into the chest. Here, take a look at this.”

“Interestin
g,” he said it matter-of-factly
but I noticed him tense.

“Yeah. Does the blood strike you as odd?”

Kylian stud
ied the pictures more carefully.
“Well, that certainly is odd. They’re not lying in their own blood, it’s rather been poured all around them. There must be a second crime scene, to kill and bleed them. This is just the dumpsite.”

I agreed. “The bundle of fur seemed to have been placed, too. Here, I got a sample.” I handed him the bag, and while he opened it a bit to stuck his nose in, I continued, “You know, I’m right there with you regarding the second crime scene. But even if they weren’t killed on the spot, dumping five bodies should at least attract someone’s attention. The alleyway is often used as a shortcut and anything but real quiet. How could the murderer have not been interrupted or seen? My guess, there was more than one and they don’t care if they are seen or not.”

Seconds passed by and Kylian stayed silent, lost in thoughts. “They look like they’ve been tortured, the silver poisoning, the incised wounds. It takes a lot to kill a shapeshifter through torture. You’re right, this doesn’t look or feel like a one man show.”

“Did you smell something?” I asked with a nod towards the bag in his hands.

“Yeah, it’s from a wolf. Probably one of them.”

One of the burned in symbols depicted a wolf. I had a bad feeling about this. “A message. And a beginning?” I murmured.

He looked at me, his eyes more blue than brown now and hard with the desire for reveng
e.
“We’ll have to find out.”

I felt the tension coming of him. He was pissed off and the bad vibes cried ‘Danger’. But we weren’t finished here. “We will. Ah, there’s one more thing. The day before yesterday a young girl was killed by a rogue. I haven’t found him yet. I don’t know whether the cases could be linked, but today her grandmother came by my office. I’m a private detective,” I explained. “She wants me to find and kill the one responsible for it. I gave her my word. I’ll have to work both cases.”

“Okay, we’ll take care of that, too.”

Pauline came back with two steaming mugs of coffee.

“Ah, that smells like heaven.” While enjoying his coffee he motioned with his hand to the laptop. “You should email those pictures to the Council. They might be able to identify the vics.”

Testing me, were we? “Already done and waiting for an answer.”

He nodded.
“Good. I want to have a look at the crime scenes, both of them. Maybe I can catch some scents. After that, well, we’ll see about that later.”

I nodded. I hadn’t expected anything else. “Here, I’ve a map of the city for you, where I’ve marked down our apartment, the crime scenes and the residence of the Chef de la Meute, the leader of the Parisian pack.” I handed it to him and couldn’t hide a small grin.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” I stood.
“Let’s go, shall we? I’ll show you the crime scenes.”

Kylian put down his now empty mug, stood, too, and stared down at me. “Don’t make it a habit.”

I stared at him, clueless. “Huh?”

He growled low in his throat,
“Ordering me around.”

Oh boy. A hyper-dominant shapeshifter, exactly what I needed.

We stood where not so long ago an innocent girl was murdered. The street looked the same, as always, with no visible signs of what had happened here. On the contrary it somehow struck me as quiet and peaceful as the light from round street lamps flooded the alley in an orange hue.

I pulled out the picture I carried with me and gave it to Kylian. “The victim’s Judith Benneteau, sixteen years old, human but there runs a little magic in the family, probably descended from a witch. Found her dead.
Wounds indicated a shapeshifter. U
sed his teeth and claws and wasn’t shy about it.”

Kylian
crouched and
inhaled deeply, then nodded and turned towards me. “He must have mangled her pretty badly. The scent of blood is still
there
. What did you do with the body?”

I squared my shoulders
bracing me for any disapproval, though I didn’t know exactly why. He very well knew I couldn’t leave the victims out in the open, or open up a morgue. Nevertheless I felt the need to defend my actions. “The police station is right around the corner. I used acid.”

He nodded again and came to stand beside me. “The second crime scene?”

“Not far from here,” I replied and led the way. It took us about fifteen minutes to go there.

“It’s nearer to your apartment, right?” I nodded. “Tell me about this one.”

“I came in the same way we did just now. Around three in the morning. Five victims on the ground, dead. They were naked, so I thought shapeshifters, who changed after death. Multiple wounds, among them silver poisoning confirming my suspicions. The rest, well, you saw the pictures.”

“Did you use acid here, too?”

“Yes, but I didn’t have enough, so I called a friend of mine. He studies chemistry and gets a five-finger discount.”

Kylian almost grinned, the dimples slightly showed, softening everything about him. “He smells not quite human. A little darker. What is he?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. He’s an orphan. We’ll probably know after The Turn.”

He took a dee
p breath and his eyes narrowed. “I can make out your scents
but there are four others. Two humans, and the others, I don’t know. It’s something I’ve never smelled before.”

Wow, something the Killer had never smelled before? That somehow didn’t sound very comforting. “Can you describe it?”

“Some kind of animal, likely with feathers. But I can’t tell you what kind and that’s weird. Even weirder is the smell of perspiration. In our animal form we don’t sweat, not like humans anyway, we regulate our body temperature by panting.”

Interesting. I stuffed this bit of information away; maybe I could use it someday, one never knew.

Our next step?

We went to a restaurant. The
Killer was hungry. Lucky for him
the typical Parisian dish consisted of steak with fries. T
he evening was pleasantly warm
so we chose a table outside on a terrace
. Flowers in pots were blooming
and a few stars sparkled.

After I ordered two steaks, his
rare and mine medium, and wine
we tried to sum up the situation. “So, basically we’ve a rogue werewolf, two humans and two creatures, which could either be animals we haven’t met before or some kind of shapeshifters we haven’t yet heard of, on the loose.”

Kylian didn’t quite agree. “The first assumption I could go with. Humans discover new species all the time, so why not. But the second one is highly unlikely. The Council keeps track of every magical species on Earth, there’s no chance they’d have missed something like that.”

I almost smiled at that since I doubted the Big Five had any clue what kind of magical species I really was. The Patroness of Paris was a witch, of course, but only half. I pulled up my eyebrows and sipped my wine, enjoying it’s incredibly fruity taste. The last hot summers did at least have one good consequence – very good wine. “No chance? So basically you’re saying that humans have no idea what or who’s living with them on this planet but the Council does. Wanna bet?”

He watched me closely but slowly he grinned. “I’m game. The winner gets whatever he wants,” he said, his voice low.

“Deal.”

Kylian’s eyes had shifted, showing just a little hint of light blue that send a very unexpected and pleasant shiver down my spine. Somehow I felt like playing with fire. The waiter came with our food and I felt saved. “Merci.”

We stayed silent for a while, enjoying our meals, so I tried to figure out what kind of animal would make a shapeshifter with blue eyes. Most had green, brown or golden yellow eyes in their animal form, but blue? Beats the hell out of me.

“Who knows about the negotiations with the humans?” I asked to return to the situation at hand.

“Magical creatures of higher rank, pack leaders and so on. And of course the human governments and other higher institutions, but there, too, only the higher ranks.” The way he looked at me I knew he understood where I was going with this. “You think we have a traitor.”

“Why not? The timing couldn’t be worse, and I don’t believe that’s just a coincidence. You have to admit, they know a thing or two. Dumping those bodies…on one hand it’s a declaration of war to the Council and on the other hand they can use it to raise fears among the humans. ‘Look those weird monsters, we can’t live in peace with them’. If this would have gone public, they’d have either make it look like as if five freaks killed each other in the alley or they’d have
shown five innocent dead humans
killed by a monster. Humans wouldn’t have seen poor, tortured shapeshifters there.”

He thought it over. “So we’ve got a group of humans or, worse, of people from our own ranks. They’re probably upset with the decisions of the Council or even against magical creatures in general and trying to make profit of the delicate diplomatic situation.” Kylian leaned back with a sigh, “I need to contact the Council.”

I opened my mouth to say something when his face was suddenly in front of mine and he snarled, “I’m not stupid, Maiwenn. I know the tr
aitor might even be one of them
but I still can trust my grandpa.”

I tried innocent eyes.
“A little touchy, aren’t we.”

He growled at me. And I started to laugh. What the heck if he thought I was suicidal, I just couldn’t help it. Shapeshifters were used to hierarchy, I wasn’t - and was quite proud of it by the way. “I’m sorry,” I managed after a while. “It’s just that I’m not a shapeshifter and this growling around doesn’t scare me.”

He started to ease back.
“This has nothing to do with you not being a shapeshifter but everything with you obviously lacking any instinct of self preservation.”

Oh, he could make me laugh, but I bit the inside of my cheek this time.

Taking a
calming breath Kylian continued.
“I need to speak to the Chef de la Meute first. To sound things out.”

“I’ll call him, but I want you to know that I trust him and I don’t believe he would be involved in something like this.” Kylian just kept staring at me, so I sighed, shaking my head, and pulled out my cell to arrange a meeting with the Parisian pack leader. “He’ll meet us in thirty minutes in the park, Jardin de Luxembourg,” I told him afterwards.

“I heard it.”

Of course he did. I’d only thought to be polite and, I don’t know, normal maybe.

After a little argument over the bill – I wanted to pay my half but Kylian wouldn’t have any of that – we took the bus to the Pantheon. It’s a grand neoclassical building containing remains of distinguished French citizens and the Foucault pendulum that showed you the rotation of the earth. Nestled on a hill and surmounted by a dome the pantheon looked out over all of Paris. I loved it at night; a glowing landmark in a sometimes wild city.

At the foot of the hill was the park. It was already closed, lying in the dark, and so we climbed the tall fence. With only the soft scrunch of the white gravel path beneath our feet it was a sanctuary from the noises of the city. I led Kylian through the park to a place where in the light of day chess players liked to meet.

“How did he earn your trust?” Kylian softly asked, breaking the silence.

“He saved my ass a couple of times,” I whispered back. And he had become the desperately needed father figure in my live. Well, I guess after the death of his wife a few months back I had become a desperately needed anchor to sanity for him.

I saw him the
n, a dark silhouette on a chair
and in front of him a stone table. As we drew nearer I could make out the chess pieces atop it. “Bonsoir, Michel.” He stood and I kissed him on the cheek.

“Good evening to you, too.” He looked up at Kylian.

“May I introduce Kylian Tremaine to you,” and then I turned to Kylian, “Michel Dubois, Chef de la Meute.”

“Nice to meet you.” Kylian showed no surprise that the wolf in front of us looked to be a polite and harmless well-dressed gentleman in his late-forties and nothing like the fierce leader he was and the merciless killing machine he could be. He wasn’t the leader of the biggest pack in France without reason.