Spark of Chaos

I couldn't breathe.

The pen was slick in my sweat damp palms and my writing barely legible as I copied down notes by rote, not even really hearing what was being said over the sound of the blood rushing in my ears.

Everything sounded like it was coming from a distance, the words echoing and strange to my ear. I swallowed back the bile that threatened to spill out and wiped the sweat from my brow, the motion bringing the attention of the barrel-chested man with the dead eyes.

I only sweat harder.

"Aren't you jumping the gun a bit?" Jack was asking, Marko. "He's been missing since yesterday evening, so… what? Fifteen, sixteen, hours?"

"There was blood," Marko snapped back, finger jabbing down at the desks surface as he emphasised his words. "Someone tried to clean it up."

"Perhaps he did?" Jack glanced at me, and I thought this is it, he knows! "Your lad has had a few… incidents that required clean up."

"He'd have called us," Barrel-chest said.

"Troy's right," Marko added. "He knows that if something happens, he needs to call Troy or Lucas."

The bearded bodyguard lifted his chin at that, and I guessed that he was Lucas.

Good to know the names of the men likely to kill me, I guess.

"Look." Jack leaned back, sighing as he looked Marko straight in the eyes. "I'm happy to take your money, but he's probably either on a bender or trying to clean up a mess he made. Probably be home in time for tea tonight."

"Find him," Marko said, his voice practically a growl. "I want updates."

"Anything you say."

Marko rose, pushing the chair back in a motion that was almost violent. It seemed that all of his motions were such, as though everything he did was him holding back the urge to lash out, to hurt or destroy.

A shiver ran down my back.

Was I like that? Was my hunger writ so clear in my every movement?

I hoped not.

Jack waited for them to leave before he tossed his pen onto his desk and pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, rubbing them. He remained that way for a moment, even after he lowered his hands, staring up at the ceiling.

"Waste of bloody time," he muttered.

"Huh?"

He did look at me then, shaking his head as his lips twisted as though tasting something sour.

"I know, Kenny. He's an absolute wanker and I wouldn't trust him alone with any woman. It wouldn't be the first time he went too far and made a mess than needed clearing away."

He sounded tired, and bored, not horrified. Was that a personality quirk of his, some deep-seated werewolf, alpha-male, misogynistic bullshit or was he just so used to such things that he was numb to their horror?

I honestly couldn't tell.

What I could, though, was that he had taken the case to find out what had happened, and that trail would inevitably lead to me. My clean up had been far too fast, too amateur because that's what I bloody-well was! An amateur.

Christ. I was gonna die.

If not the half-demons, then the coven when they found out I had become a man-killer. A threat to their perfectly controlled secret world.

"Hey!" Jack repeated, louder and I blinked, looking over at him.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said are you ready to go?"

"Go where?"

"Kennys house."

Shit, shit, shit.

No!

"Yeah, sure."

This wasn't good. He was a werewolf. He would smell that I'd been there.

"Great, we'll take my jeep."

"Whatever you say, boss."

I was so very proud of the way my voice was even and still. Even if my hands were trembling so hard, I could barely hold my purse open to stuff the pen and pad in with everything else I had in there.

My fingers briefly touched the knife.

A last resort.

The blade was silver.

For most supernatural species, silver was anathema. It burned like nothing else.

I pulled it out and slipped it into my pocket.

Just in case.

We drove to Kennys place in silence, and I was all too aware of the concerned glances that Jack kept giving me. I turned my head and stared out the window, watching the City of York go by as we drove to what I was certain could well be my end.

"You live near here, yeah?"

I glanced over at Jack, eyebrows rising. "Yeah. I didn't think I'd given you my address yet, just my number."

"Aye, but I'd be a pretty poor PI if I couldn't figure out that, wouldn't I?"

He grinned as he said it, and I took it to be meant in good humour, but it was far from that for me. If I was that easy to find for him, then perhaps I would be just as easy for my family to find too.

Which was the very last thing I wanted.

"Looks like this is it." He leaned forward over the steering wheel, staring up at the houses as he slowed to a stop. "Bit of a shithole, which isn't unexpected."

"It's not?"

"Yeah, why what did you expect?"

I shrugged. What the hell was I supposed to say. I'd already seen where he lived. Best I could do was lie.

"Son of a criminal gang leader. I figured he'd have a bit more cash. Could rent a swanky place in the town centre."

"He does," Jack said. "We'll be going there next. This is one of the places he deals from. Then uses it on a night to bring back girls. Easy pickings here. He flashes a bit of cash, says some nice words and he's a good-looking lad, so they tend to fall for it. Poor sods."

Was that concern for the girls Kenny abused? I honestly couldn't tell, but once again I found myself re-evaluating my opinion of the big man.

Perhaps he did care and was frustrated because he was stuck between a rock and a hard place when it came to the covens and the gangsters.

"Where's your pack?" I whispered and he stiffened, eyes flashing with anger as they turned a bright, unnatural amber. The steering wheel groaned as he gripped it tight, stressing the material, and I held up my hands.

"Sorry! I didn't mean-"

"Leave it," he growled, knuckles so white where he gripped the wheel I feared for his blood flow.

He climbed out of the car, and I scrambled after him. I had one chance to hide that I'd been here last night, and it was going to be tricky to manage. More so if he was pissed off with adrenaline pumping.

"The doors open, right?" I called out as I hurried through the gate and towards the door. "I'll meet you in there."

"Wait! Emma, dammit!"

The door opened easily, and I slipped inside. I moved quickly through the living room, and into the kitchen trailing my fingers along the grimy walls and touching every exposed surface I could.

"Just checking upstairs," I called out as Jack burst through the front door.

I ignored his call and made a quick circuit of the upstairs, opening drawers and cupboards and leaving my scent on everything.

Jack barrelled up the stairs, jaw clenched, and hands curled into fists, as I came out of the bathroom.

"All clear," I said, brightly. "He isn't here."

Large hands grabbed me and lifted me easily, so that I was barely an inch away from his face as he growled low in his throat in a way that set my nerves afire. There was something primal about it, and the way he held me, his grip strong but not too tight.

Well… it was unnerving.

"The hell do you think you're doing!" He practically screamed and I flinched back. "You know how dangerous that was!"

It was my turn for my eyes to flash, and he jerked back instinctively at what he saw there. His hands opened and I dropped to the floor, landing easily on my feet as I growled back a response of my own.

"Not as dangerous as you think!"

His breathing was coming in shallow gasps, and his entire body was clenched so tightly I was pretty sure one wrong move would send him bouncing from the walls like a startled cat. I sucked in a deep breath and slowly raised my hands in surrender.

"Sorry," I lied. "It was reckless, but I was just eager to show you I can do the job."

It took a moment for him to compose himself enough to answer, but his muscles slowly uncoiled, and his stance relaxed, along with his fists. "All you did was show me how new you are to this."

As rebukes went, not the worst. I could live with that.

He obviously wasn't thinking about why my scent was all over the bloody house at least.

"Sorry," I repeated, doing my damndest to look contrite.

Not sure it worked.

He made a show of looking around, not that there was much to see. Only two rooms up here. Bedroom and bathroom.

"Anything in here?"

"Some toiletries, a few clothes in the bedroom. That's it."

He huffed and pushed open the bedroom door, lifting his chin as he sniffed at the air.

"Smell anything?" I asked, innocently.

"Too many scents, new and old," he muttered, almost as though talking to himself. "I'd need to change to fully decipher them."

That was news to me.

"So, your senses are stronger in wolf form?"

He turned his head, frowning back at me. "Of course."

"Of course," I mocked, pulling a face. "It if was obvious I wouldn't have bloody asked, would I?"

He chuckled quietly as he entered the room. I stood at the doorway and watched as he moved through the room, pulling open the cupboards and drawers that I had. He didn't stop there though, lifting the mattress and tossing it aside as though it weighed nothing.

Bedframe next, he lowered himself to the floor, hands pressing down on the grimy carpet as he sniffed, long and loud.

"Something here," he muttered.

There was that flash of amber and his right hand began to change as his brow furrowed and sweat beaded his skin. He concentrated, focusing all of his will on changing just the one hand, as his fingers lengthened, and the nails formed into sharp, curved claws.

With a single swipe, he tore up the carpet and a loose floorboard along with it. I blinked, and realised I was holding my breath, mesmerised.

As much as I knew of the supernatural community, I had always been held apart from it. 'We don't mix with the lesser races,' my grandmother had used to say. Her casual bigotry reason enough to hate me for being what I was, even if not for the danger I presented.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice subdued by the memory of that vile old woman.

"A box."

"Well, duh!"

I could see that. Wooden, about the size of the palm of his hand, which to be fair made it twice the size of the palm of my hand. It had intricate carvings all across its surface, symbols and imagery that I couldn't understand, though it seemed familiar.

"Aren't you opening it?" I asked as he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.

"It's covered in wards," he said, grunting and shaking his head. "Not worth risking opening."

"How so?"

A shrug of those large shoulders and then he answered, almost absently as he looked around the room. "Could be set to destroy what's inside or to burn to ash anyone who tries to open it. I don't know, I'm no caster of spells."

"Then what you gonna do with it?"

"Take it to someone who is."

Great. Thanks for that enlightening explanation.

I shook my head, no wiser than I had been before I asked the question. Jack pulled out the dresser drawers and checked them over thoroughly for anything else that might be hidden before he left them discarded on the bedroom floor and headed to the bathroom.

There was less to check in there and judging by the distinct uncleanliness of the house, I was pretty glad I didn't share his sense of smell. I stayed outside and waited, listening as he tore the bathroom cabinet from the wall and then the side panel off the bath.

"Nothing," he grunted, coming back out of the room.

Downstairs we went and he repeated his search of the rooms there, starting with the kitchen before moving to the living room. Only when he was certain that he'd gone over every inch of the place did he approach the blood-stained patch of carpet.

He knelt down inhaling deeply and scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"Bleach," he muttered, pulling a face. "Can't tell if this was his blood or someone else's."

I wanted to sigh with relief, but didn't dare make a sound that he might notice and bring attention to myself.

"Too much blood for anyone to survive," he said. "If it is Kenny, I'm pretty sure he's dead."

"You gonna tell his dad that?"

"No." Another frown as he scratched at his bearded chin. "Not yet, anyway."

"Why not?"

Jack turned to look at me and I caught a deep weariness in his eyes, there and gone in an instant, wiped away as though he were afraid of showing any vulnerability.

"Because once he's sure his son is dead, he will tear this city apart looking for the killer," he said sighing. "That amount of bloodshed will bring in the covens. Then all hell will break loose."

"Oh."

I had to bear the responsibility for that, as much as I didn't want to. If that happened, the covens would be the very worst of it, but the thought of innocent people getting hurt because of something I did was almost too much to bear.

"Let's go, lass," Jack said. "We need to figure out who the killer is and find him before this city falls into chaos."

Great.

Just, bloody, great.