The smoky form became agitated, and the chill got fiercer, until it felt like fingers of ice were creeping into my flesh.
She swirled faster, her movements almost angry. With every turn, energy built in the air, until the small hairs along the nape of my neck were standing on end.
Only then did the words come again. We were to be married. We were to live here.
With that statement, the energy fell away, and the soul disintegrated, fleeing to whatever region of afterlife it was bound.
And with it went the sense of evil, although that faded a lot more slowly. It was almost as if it wanted to linger, but something else was drawing it away.
I shivered again, then met Cole's curious gaze. "She said her fiance did this."
"Her fiance?" He looked around. "Seems he wanted to get out of that marriage real bad."
"Yeah." I glanced at her remains, and wondered just what her fiance was. Surely not human. It was doubtful, really, that he was even a were or a shifter. As strong as either race was, most didn't have the sheer physical strength to rip someone apart so cleanly. Although there was one type of shifter who probably could.
"Would a bear-shifter be capable of doing this?"
Cole frowned. "Maybe, if they were in bear form. But from what I've seen, there don't seem to be any claw marks on any of the limbs."
"No." I looked at her torso and swallowed heavily. "I think I'll get out of your way and go question the neighbors."
This time, the amusement on his lips did light his pale eyes. "And you said it wasn't going to be my day."
"If you're not careful, I'll come back especially to mess up your crime scene."
"You probably will anyway."
"Not if you promise to send me a direct report ASAP."
"Done deal."
"Thanks," I said, and got the hell out of there.
Once in the open air - and free of the gloves and the booties - I stopped and sucked in several deep breaths. Death might still cling to my pores, but at least it no longer fouled my lungs.
I looked up and down the street, studying the house numbers. Once I'd spotted the one I wanted, I crossed the road. After shoving open the rickety gate, I bounded up the steps to the front door of the house. There was a small doorbell to the right of the handle, so I pressed it and waited. A dog yapped somewhere in the bowels of the house, then the lace curtains covering the window to the right twitched and a small, sharp face appeared.
"Shut that gate," he said, voice shrill and wavering. "You want the dog getting out?"
I very much doubted the dog would come anywhere near me, but I dutifully turned around and wrestled the gate closed. Only when I'd done that did the old guy open the door. The yappy dog was at his heels, still yapping away. It might be little, but it sure as hell made a lot of noise.
"Yes?" the old guy said. "What do you want?"
"Mr. Hammond?"
"Yes."
"I'm Riley Jenson, a guardian with the Directorate of Other Races. We're investigating the crime you reported this morning."
"Did you catch those buggers? I hate them boys, always breaking into them vacant houses and wrecking things."
I frowned. "Boys? You said in your report you only saw a shadow."
"Well, I did," he said, over the noise of the dog, "but I know it was probably them boys again. I've run them off a few times since the house was sold."
I shifted slightly, bringing one foot closer to the door. The yappy little dog took a sniff and recognized wolf. The tail dived between its legs and it scampered away as fast as it could. The sudden silence was bliss.
"So you know who bought the house?"