Chapter One

A body lay on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue hidden among flawless pruned shrubs. 

Another victim. 

I snaked both arms around my waist, trying to ward off the eerie darkness slithering along my spine. This woman had the same stoic look as the last two. Something about these dead women reminded me of Grace. 

Across the street protest marchers carried signs saying “SHIFTER LIVES MATTER.” If the police didn’t catch the killer soon, they’d have a riot on their hands.

The blue lights of DC’s finest officers created a shield around the victim. I stood on the corner waiting to be allowed to enter the crime scene. I flashed my Paranormal Federal Bureau of Investigations badge. The officer waved me in. I ducked under the yellow police tape. “I’m here to see the police chief.” 

The officer pointed me in his direction.

“Third girl this month.” Larry bounced on the balls of his feet and continued to investigate the body. 

The deceased woman’s blonde-streaked black hair lay strewn down her breast. Her lips painted blue. Perfect chiseled cheek bones and almond shaped eyes. Her ankles bound with silver coiled rope and a warlock destiny symbol carved across her flat stomach. 

I might not have been a forensic detective, but obviously someone wanted to send a strong message. I pushed my glasses to the top of my head squinting. “Thanks for the text.”

“I could use your knowledge of warlock magic.”

“What about the reporters standing behind the tape?”

“We’re trying to keep the press away, especially since every one of these women resemble Grace Isaeva.”

Grace was my best friend, but most important she was the former President of the United States. After she passed the civil rights legislation, gaining the shifter population equal rights, she’d taken leadership of the PFBI. I drew in a breath to take in the fact just over a year ago I’d broken the biggest news story of my career only to find myself under scrutiny by the shifter organization I was trying to help. The hurt still lingered in my heart, so I resigned from CNN as a news reporter. Grace offered me a job overseeing the magical other worlds that co-existed with the humans. At least I was able to put my knowledge of modern witchcraft to good use. “Do you think our perp is killing these women for revenge?”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

Larry jotted notes in his phone. He stopped at the victim’s feet.

“What can you tell me about the symbols?”

I walked around the body and knelt at her side to get a better look of the painted images on her stomach.

“Human or shifter?” If she was human instead of another shifter then there was a chance our killer wasn’t targeting the clans.

“Wolf.” An officer who worked street patrol gave us her name.

“Which pack?”

“Local girl. She’s part of the Smith pack outside town. Her pack’s pretty riled up and demanding the department turn the investigation over to the shifter authorities.”

Brigit came strutting up in a pair of blue jeans and a red tank top. Larry would drop a log if he knew she was a Celtic fire goddess. Brigit worked as a secret operative agent for the Central Intelligence, better known as “The Agency.” As an agent, she occasionally helped out the PFBI on difficult cases.

“What’s up, Leslie?” Brigit came over and planted a kiss on my right cheek leaving her trademark red lipstick behind.

“What about me?” Larry waved his arms.

“Ahh, Larry, what would your lovely wife say if you came strutting home with my lipstick on your face?”

“She’d kick my ass.”

“Thought so.” Brigit focused her attention back to me. “Grace wants to talk with you. There have been two more victims found in Yellowstone.”

Larry looked at me then to Brigit. “Is the modus operandi the same?”

“Yep. Same hair patterns, blue lips, and a warlock destiny symbol drawn across their naked stomach,” Brigit stated before turning to me. “Grace is concerned.”

“If you want my opinion, those protest marchers probably have something to do with the urgency and the fact all our victims resemble Grace,” Larry said.

I stooped down to the dead girl holding back my gag reflex. “Look at this. The diamond shaped symbol is a palette of purple and green shades within the triangles.”

“Don’t touch the body.” The coroner moved in closer taking photographs.

“Make sure I get a copy of those images,” Larry said.

“The perpetrator must want to communicate who he is.” Brigit stated in a matter-of-fact tone. 

She was right. The murder of these women reminded me of the horrific deaths at Montana’s wildlife refuge. The very case that caused me to leave CNN. Something about the fact that none of these women had shifted bothered me. Each victim appeared to be immobile, not one broken nail, scratch, or any sign of a fight. I fought the burning of cold fear percolating in the turmoil of my stomach. 

“Could we be dealing with the same killers who’d hunted the shifters for sport last year?” 

“Possible.”

“The ones we’d found in the cages had the same paralyzed look as these girls.”

Larry nudged me to follow him, letting the coroner and his staff finish their investigation. “Keep me informed of any information the PFBI finds. We still might be dealing with a human killer.”

I drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily, letting my body calm. “Sure thing.”

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