Chapter Three

After leaving Enchanté with Jean-Claude's promise that he would get me the names I needed, I found myself back at home, the door to my little flat closing behind me life a sigh of relief. The ominous warning in the cards hard haunted me on the drive back home. Kicking off my heels, my toes sunk into the soft wool of the rug, just as the soft tinkling of a bell sounded as Prada padded towards me. "Hey baby," I cooed as I dumped my keys and back onto the little table by the door.

Prada gave a soft cry, butting her silky black head against my leg. Bending down, I gave the fur behind her ear a little scratch before straightening, casting a wary eye about the small one bedroom I owed. Unlike Jean-Claude, I had little fondness for incense, more so content with vanilla scented candles and the cliché dark, archaic witch look.

Up on the fifth floor, I had one of the better views of pear grey skies and tops of posh Chiswick homes. I had only been able to afford such a flat – even one as small as mine – after I had taken up the offered job with PDGH. I know about every witch, shaman and magic user I've ever come in contact with who hasn't openly voiced their less than favourable opinion about my line of work. As far as they were concerned, I was giving centuries – no, millenniums – of magical knowledge to humans so that they could trial and prosecute us.

With Prada at my heels, I trailed from the living room to the marble kitchen worktop that divided the two rooms. I loved the kitchen I rarely got to use since my unholy hours demanded my time rather than shopping in quaint little organic shops like most people in my improved neighbourhood did. Opening the stainless steel fridge, the empty content – save from Prada's chow and a couple of bottles of wine – only confirmed it. Eying the pitiful sight, I pulled out a tin of cat food and muttered to myself. "Pizza it is." Five o'clock in the afternoon was a little early for dinner but I had skipped lunch and my breakfast consisted on little else than litres of coffee and a few energy bars.

Picking up Prada's bowl, I frowned a little when her little black form didn't start rubbing against my legs with impatience. Pulling back the metal seal, I paused when I heard her cry. Glancing around, I didn't immediately see her until I peered around the kitchen island to the living room. Large green eyes blinked at me before turning to the phone that stood in its cradle. Her trail swished and Prada gave another cry just as the phone lit up, it's shrill ring echoing through the still apartment.

Arching a brow at the suspiciously smug looking cat, I moved to the phone whilst it rang on persistently. Glancing at the caller ID, unease prickled as I pressed the call button to answer Finn. "What is it?" There was no exchange of pleasantries – perhaps if I had another partner other than an uptight werewolf, but sometimes, Finn's bluntness rubbed off.

The static on the other line did little to mask Finn's grim tone. "There's been another body."

Fuck.

"Where?"

I could hear noise in the background, the familiar whine of traffic fading in and out but Finn confirmed my suspicions. "Closer to home this time – White City." I frowned at the sudden closeness of the murder compared to Abby's body which had been dumped on the outskirts of London – a good few hours' drive. I was now looking at about twenty minutes from home. "We need you to confirm traces of sulphur over the victim's body."

There was more to it than that, but Finn didn't really have to tell me my job over the phone. After being informed that he would send me the location he hung up without saying goodbye. Not that I expected him to. Staring at the phone in my hand, I transferred my gaze to Prada, who sat watching me with an expectant expression.

"Well," I muttered, setting the phone back into the cradle. "At least one of us gets to eat."

The drive to White City was a little longer than I had anticipated due to the rush hour of traffic – thousands of commuters homeward-bound after a long day's work. I envied them and my dark mood only intensified when I drove past Westfields, the large shopping complex that held many of my coveted designer stores. As a small consolation as I willed myself to drive on, I pictured the Gucci blazer and shorts I had my eye on for a while now, their pictures having been tapped to my bedroom wall as a daily motivator.

But sometimes even the promise of Gucci couldn't make a girl want to face yet another dead body.

When I finally pulled up outside what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse that presumably had been a collection of offices before, I had to add a Chanel bag to my list get myself out the car. Police tapes surrounded the building and while few loitered about, trying to catch a glimpse of inside, many avoided the flashing blue lights completely.

As I ducked under the tape, one of the officers standing nearby frowned at me, his strides long as he made his way over. "Miss, this is a crime scene, I will have to arrest you if-," I flashed him my Prada purse where my PDGH badge was, cutting him off. I watched as his eyes focused on a certain word, one that I was legally bound to have on me at all times. Witch. I always know when they see it; humans rarely hide their surprise, disgust. But he was on duty and sometimes, a death is more important than hate.

Stepping aside to let me pass, I fought the urge to cast a little jinx to teach the young officer a lesson. Any magic with malicious intent was illegal but he wouldn't be able to prove a harmless fungus spell now, would he? But like a good little black witch, I resisted temptation.

Walking into the dark enclave of the abandoned warehouse, I strode past the lingering clean-up crew and made my way over to where the crime scene photographers were, wrinkling my nose t the damp, moulding scent that just held trace of decay. This new body was a fresh one. From the crowd that surrounded what I presumed to be the body, a familiar shock of copper hair and green eyes broke away from the throng. Finn greeted me half way with a scowl, his hands shoved deep into his trouser-suit pockets.

"You took your time."

I spared him a glare as we both made our way back to the body. "I do have a life, you know."

"I'm sorry a young woman's death cut your circle-time, Evelyn." Finn's usually stoic features were hard with anger. Anger I was more than happy to return.

"Quit acting like it's your time of the month," I shot back. "You still have weeks until the full moon." Quickening my pace before he could make another retort, I mentally readied myself for what I was about to see. But really, nothing can prepare you for a demon's slaughtering.

Like Abby, this girl was untouched save for her torso. Ribs that seemed to have been pulled back as if large hands had tried to open her up. Skin and bone mingled with body tissue and blood. Not wanting to look at the sight more than I had to, I found my gaze dropping to the floor where dirt and debris lay scattered. I frowned when I caught sight of what looked like chalk a metre or so away from the body, a pool of blood seeming to always seep out to reach it.

Bending down for a closer inspection, I saw the familiar sight of what appeared to be candle wax residue. "This is the place of death?" I asked surprised, looking up to see Finn watching me. He nodded and I glanced at the body with another frown. "Who is she?"

"The identity is unknown," I glanced over at one of the photographers who stood near, a woman with large brown eyes to match her deep-set skin colour. "We've already taken DNA samples to run by the lab." I nodded in thanks, turning back to the body. There was little to go by other than her state was like Abby's. And maybe lingering traces of sulphur.

But my empty stomach clenched at the thought of getting close to the body so to buy myself some time, I looked over my shoulder at Finn. "Can we place the time of death?"

Finn's head was tilted as if he were listening to something, expression holding that far-away look as if he was somewhere else, lost in thought. Minutes past before Finn blinked, evidently returning to present before sparing me a glance. "Around twelve hours." The full weight of his glare turned on me as he focused. "Do your job, McCarren."

I didn't bother telling him that I was doing my job. I was a Detective Hunter – even if I was a reluctant, on and off one. I wasn't some sniffer dog but then, I didn't dare say that to Finn. I still think it's a sore spot. With little else to prolong it, I found my gaze turning back the poor body of the girl who had been yet another sacrifice.

Lowering my head, I found the unmistakable acrid burn lingering in the air above the body. It was stronger, perhaps due to being fresher than it had been on Abby's. "It's here alright," I muttered, pulling away but I had a good whiff of it and now, that coppery, metallic taste coated the back of my mouth. "So, we have a serial-killing demon summoner."

Straightening, I glanced at Finn. "What were you listening in to?" I asked, curious as I recalled the distant look he had worn just moments before. Finn jerked his head a little in surprise his green eyes widening before he glanced sharply around.

"Not here."

My brow arched at that before I looked back at the body. "We done here?" Finn nodded, his eyes already narrowing in suspicion. I beamed. "Good, I'm starving – you can tell me all about it over some food." Despite being surrounded by human officers, a lacerated body and a bleak near-future looming, the utter shock on Finn's face cause a laugh of pure delight to leave my lips. "And if you play nice," I added for good measure as colour rose in his cheeks. "I'll even pay my share."

Despite his initial shock and reluctance to spend more time with me than what was required of him, Finn and I left the warehouse and found ourselves in a little café just a five-minute walk away from the crime scene. The small little square of tables and chairs was blissfully warm and somehow removed from the evident danger that had happened on its doorstep.

A few builders sat in the corner, chatting boisterously over their full English breakfasts that was served at all times of the day while a couple huddled together over some coffee, their hands intertwined under the table. The sight of them made me wonder what Finn and I must have looked like – a thin girl with a thick fall of black hair and grey eyes dressed head-to-toe in designer with a grumpy redhead with guarded eyes and a shoddy suit and a day's worth of golden stubble.

Looking at Finn as he strode confidently over towards the furthest, most isolated table possible in the tiny café, I had to wonder if he saw things as I did – how to unsuspecting eye, we looked like a couple – albeit an odd one. There was an obvious age difference – five years – aided by the added stress that Finn endured. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties rather than twenty-seven and I know that I looked young – wide eyes and a good complexion could give the illusion of a few years.

Taking the seat opposite him, I frowned at the menus mounted on the wall behind him, trying to make out the lettering. Seeing me squinting, Finn arched a brow with a disapproving look. "You should wear your glasses more," He commented, perhaps recalling the time he had seen me with them. It had only been once and even though they were Guess, I hated them and swore that I wouldn't bother.

Obviously getting tired of me struggling, Finn sighed, turning in his seat. "What are you trying to-," But his voice died as his head snapped back angrily to me. I knew what he saw – the words on the board had magnified, bleeding in size until they were at least twice as big.

"Evelyn!" Finn growled my name in a low warning, his eyes flaring as he swept a glance about us to see if anyone had noticed.

Ignoring him, I smiled at the waitress who hovered hesitantly over by the till, watching as she made her way over. "I'll have a cheese and bacon omelette with a side order of chips and a coke." I arched a brow at Finn who merely gruffed his own order of black coffee.

When the waitress was out of earshot, Finn leaned over the table to whisper with a hard expression. "Are you trying to out yourself?" He demanded. "You can't use your – your…"

"Magic?" I supplied helpfully, leaning back in the plastic chair, arms crossed over my chest. "And yeah, I can actually." I watched as Finn's expression darkened but I spoke before he could begin his lecture. "We've been out for years now – I can do magic, just nothing illegal." My tone softened a little. "I know you're still stinging from the burn of what happened," I watched Finn's tanned features quickly rise in colour as I spoke each word. "But, you can't let that hold you back."

"Listen McCarren," The timber in Finn voice had taken on an edge to it that made it more than just a grow – it was the kind of guttural that no human could produce and as Finn leaned close so that he wouldn't be overheard, I saw the rim of gold around his iris' flare. In that moment, a true spark of fear prickled along my skin as I stared at the usually so-level headed man that while I didn't like, I admired and to some extent, trusted.

I watched as Finn's nostrils flared and in that moment, I knew he could smell my fear. It must have tasted sweeter than the tang of cheap coffee and grease because Finn's lips parted, drawing in the air riddled with my fear, his pupil's dilating. Unconsciously, he leaned forward, his hands flat against the slightly sticky top of the table, fingers spread in a way that reminded me of a wolf about to pounce on its stalked prey.

Not thinking, I simply acted. Placing my right hand over his left, I left a little current of magic pass through me, through my touch, into Finn. He gave a grunt of surprise, his body jerking like he had received a static shock. It was hardly magic at all – merely the magical energy that surrounded me, survived through me, had given of a reaction to its unfamiliar host. As the green returned to Finn's eyes, I spoke low in warning. "I can use magic and I will if you pull that wolf-shit on me again."

Removing my hand from his, I noted that Finn had kept his stubbornly where it was, refusing to rub the sting that I knew would be there. We sat in silence until the waitress came with our drinks and cutlery. I beamed at her in thanks while Finn merely turned to his coffee, the back of his tanned hand already turning a little red. As the waitress left with the promise that our food was to follow, I arched a brow at my brooding companion, popping the top of my coke can, relishing the familiar hiss and frenzy of bubbles that followed as I dumped most of it into my glass.

"I get it," Raising the soft drink to my lips, I watched as Finns features twisted in disbelief. "You don't like me. You're hardly a gentleman yourself but at least I can remain professional about it."

"Are you questioning my ability to do my job?" The growling had gone and in its place was a low, even tone which raised the hairs on the back of my neck just as well. Shoulder's hunched, Finn's green eyes watched me in that unnerving still way, as if he was drinking in my every move, listening in to every ebb of my pulse, waiting.

Taking a sip, I shook my head. "No, I'm questioning whether or not you can work with me." I spied the waitress coming towards us with my omelette and felt my mouth begin to water. She placed the steaming plate in front of me and shot me a smile before departing behind the counter. When I was sure she was gone, I picked up my knife and fork, ignoring the persistent pangs of hunger. "We've worked on a few cases before and to be honest every time you were just on the right side of me filing a complaint for unprofessional conduct." Shovelling the grease mess of deliciousness into my mouth, I chewed in an unlady-like manner. "I thought it was just me being a woman, or even our opposing personalities clashing but now I think it's something more."

Swallowing my mouthful, I leaned a little closer over the table. "Is it because I'm a witch or a magic user in general?"

Taking another swing of my coke, I watched in mild interest as Finn's tanned features turned an interesting shade of red. But, when his eyes dropped to my exposed wrist where my tattoo was clearly on show, I felt my stomach twist.

"Ah," I murmured, my gaze dropping to my plate. "So it's because I'm not lily-white." I busied myself with my food though its appeal was somewhat lost. I was merely eating for the sake of it, no longer enjoying it thanks to Finn's new revelation. I shouldn't be surprised, but as silence settled between us, I found it hard to take. To the white-magic community, I was tainted. A fallen witch seduced by the lull of darkness and it would seem that I wasn't pure enough for a werewolf either.

"Now that we've got that out of the way," I willed my tone to be light as I focused on cutting up more bacon and melted cheese. "Do you want to tell me about what you overheard?" I expected Finn to make some noise of complaint but for once, it would seem that we both were just as eager as the other to change the topic of conversation.

"They've matched the body's description to a missing person's report just filed a few hours ago." Finn brought the coffee to his lips, his green eyes bright through the faint wisps of steam. "Jessica Banks or Madeline 'Mads' Hatter as she was known at Wonderland – last seen leaving the club around five Monday morning."

I blinked. "Another stripper?" I knew of Wonderland, its owners being of the few fae who dared to stand the metal of London's bustling city. It served as neutral ground for both the Seelie and Unseelie courts and was exclusive to their own kind and humans. Wonderland was notorious for its outrageous catering of sex and drugs but despite its reputation, Gideon and Llyr Embers enforce a strict security for its staff and customers alike.

Finn nodded. "The fact that she's one of the Ember's girls means that Head Office is high alert. We need to start producing some results – Frank's calling us in tomorrow morning."

"Shit," I yelped a little too loudly, causing some of the builders to glance over at us before looking away in disinterest. Lowering my tone, I could feel that ache behind my eye starting to pound. "I have a contact that's getting me names of all the magic-users in London capable of summoning a demon of that level – I'll see if he can get it done by tomorrow."

Draining the last of his coffee, Finn nodded as he rose to his feet. I remained seated, content to finish what would probably be the only meal I would get today. As I watched Finn fish into his suit pocket for some change, I took another swing of my soda. "I'll guess I'll see you at Frank's."

Finn mumbled something as he dumped a crumpled note onto the table top that sounded suspiciously like "Don't be late."

Rolling my eyes as he left, I found that the note was a twenty – more than enough to cover both of our bills. Glancing over my shoulder to find that he had already left, I found that the last of my omelette tasted a little better than it did before.

The drive home was a quick one, the traffic easing as the day gave way to the night. The sky was already inky black when my heels echoed up the familiar path that led to my apartment complex, the air chilled enough to seep through my blazer, causing me to shiver. Eager to get inside, I quickly made my way to the lift, only to groan when I saw the Out of Order sign. Eying the four-inches I wore, I started for the stairs, fishing out my phone from my bag to call Jean-Claude's number.

Pressing the mobile to my ear, I used my free hand to grip the railing as I all but pulled myself up the first flight. There were a few rings before Jean-Claude picked up. "Oui?"

I rolled my eyes before answering. "I'm going to need those names for tomorrow morning."

A string of muttered curses followed, not all of them French. I sniggered, trying to ignore the slight burn in my thighs as I made it to the third floor. After a while, Jean-Claude composed himself enough to sigh. "Very well, but you are a demanding woman Evelyn."

I felt myself smile at that, but keeping it on my lips was more effort than I had. "Yeah, well. There's been another murder. I guess you could say that time is of the essence here." I heard Jean curse again and found myself mentally doing the same. Why the hell had I picked the fifth floor? What was wrong with the second?

"I'll make it up to you this time." I promised as I finally rounded the fifth floor much to my body's delight. Once my work load lessened I mentally vowed to renew my gym membership. Or maybe cast a spell for health and well-being.

On the other end of the line, I could hear Jean-Claude's noise of disbelief. "You said that last time. I'm still waiting on that, how you say, drink?" The lilt at the end of the word drink gave me the not-so-subtle impression that an alcoholic beverage didn't quite make us even.

"Fine," I muttered in exasperation as al but limped down the hallway to my door. "When this is over we can cast another circle." Pressing my phone to my ear and holding it there with my shoulder, I began to rifle in my handbag for my keys.

"I was thinking more along the lines of dinner."

I froze, the phone slipping from my shoulder to clatter against the carpeted floor. I couldn't breathe, my throat constricting painfully. The pounding in my head began to sear, fierce and throbbing to the point where I thought a vein might burst. Distantly, I heard Jean-Claude's voice calling me from somewhere far away, but my senses, my whole focus was consumed on one thing and one thing alone.

Sulphur.

And the thick, heady stench was coming right from behind my door.