I bent, then squatted, then finally lay on my stomach, peering along the rocky dirt, searching for clues. I saw none—just a few dozen sets of footprints. Like a TV detective, I wanted to rail about all the civilians messing with my crime scene.
I stood, brushing myself off. My grand investigation would fail before it even had a chance to begin.
With a sigh, I looked across the rocks and down to the cove, inching as close to the ledge as I dared. I wanted a better look at the site of so many of my cursed swim lessons. It was strange studying it with a bird’s-eye view, yet somehow, just then, it didn’t feel like a bad association. Rather, that cove and Ronan’s steel-jawed persistence were probably what’d kept me alive so far.
He’d taught me so much, and I hated to admit that those damned surfing lessons had already taught me a lot, too. About patience, how to watch and wait. How, when opportunity finally arrived, to seize it with courage. I’d found it nearly impossible not to panic at the first giant wave that’d come crashing toward me. But Ronan had taught me when to act on instinct and when to act on intellect, and intellect had told me the wave couldn’t have been more than three feet high.
He’d shown me how to see what was truly there.
I looked away from the horizon, clearing Ronan from my mind. And it was then that I saw it. A thin smudge of brown along the thick green moss that carpeted the ridge’s outer edge.
I inched closer, then finally just dropped to my hands and knees. Falling off a cliff would really put a damper on my investigation.
Once, I’d had to rely on my basic tracking skills. Ever since, I’d treated it as valuable a skill as combat, keeping a frequent eye to the ground, learning how to read it as I would a story.
And what a story these marks told.
The deep scuff that’d called my attention was thin and deep, a dark brown slash in the thin carpet of moss. That slash represented a slender boot heel that’d been dug in violently—and recently—its owner clinging to life.
“You fought him,” I murmured, knowing instinctively we were dealing with a him. Sympathy and an odd sadness choked me. Trinity had fought, but she’d been too weak. We all were against the vampires.
Scooting closer, I divided the area into a grid in my mind. The evidence was faint, and to the untrained eye it would’ve looked like a normal landscape. But I’d been practicing. I read where the grass was torn, where moss had been scraped, where darker flecks of earth and displaced gravel spoke to a scuffle.
The exsanguinations suggested the killer was Vampire, but vampires were strong. Strong enough to kill with a single snap of the neck. This predator hadn’t just murdered his victims—he’d toyed with them. This killer liked to play.
“Right along the edge,” I marveled. She’d fought for her life while balanced on a high precipice.
The sight brought home just what we were up against, and heaviness swept my chest till I felt my chin sink into twined fists.
“Nice ass. ”
The male voice shattered my reverie, and I lurched up like one of those suction cup toys, instinctively springing forward so as not to tumble down.
It was a Trainee. Rob the Trainee, to be precise. One of the clowns who’d once almost peed on me, thanks to a particularly degrading Masha hazing episode.
If he’d come with friends, I was toast. I scanned the area behind him. Luckily there was no one else in sight. “What the hell are you doing?”
He gave me a slow, slack-jawed once-over. “I said, nice ass, Acari. ”
“Unlike yours,” I snapped. “I’ve hated the sight of your gangly ass from the first moment I laid eyes on it. ”
“They said you were an ice queen. ” He nodded knowingly, but kept his eyes half-lidded and leering. Was he trying to look sexy? “I say you just need a good thaw. ”
“What is your problem?” Standing tall, I stepped forward, figuring a good offense was the best defense. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same. ” He took a lazy step toward me. “Thought you’d return to the scene of the crime?”
I sidestepped him. He didn’t scare me. I might’ve been smaller and weaker, but surely I was smarter than Rob-the-Trainee. “I had nothing to do with any of this. ”
“That’s not what I heard. ” His hand darted out, petting my hair.
I flinched away, shuddering at his touch. “You heard wrong. ”
But then—boom—he was back, standing in front of me. Was he further along in his training? His movements seemed faster than normal. That was my cue.
“It’s been great catching up,” I said. “But I gotta run. Class time. ” I tried to dart by him.
He grabbed my arm, stopping me, and his hand brushed against my breast. “Not so fast. ”