Spark of Chaos

I awoke with a headache and the skin of my face and lower arms, red and itchy from being out in the sun too long. It was minor damage and would heal on its own in a few days, so I did my best to ignore it as I spent the morning cleaning my flat and tidying up after the past few too busy days.

Peter had kept us until the early hours of the morning spinning colourful tales of a long life well lived. After a short time, I'd begun to enjoy myself and had indulged in his generosity, drinking several glasses of wine, each one more incredible than the last.

The only thing Peter had seemed to want in return was for me to describe everything about them. The aroma, the taste, the feel on my tongue.

I was only too happy to oblige, tasting vintages so exquisitely rare that I suspected even my father hadn't had the chance to taste them. All while Jack got steadily drunker and more morose as the night wore on.

By the time I left, he was propping himself up and muttering to himself while Peter promised to watch over him.

A strange night, when all was said and done.

Still, since Jack hadn't offered any suggestion of working, I was left with a Sunday to myself and little to do.

After I'd finished tidying, I managed a load of laundry and made a kale salad for my lunch. I wasn't particularly hungry, and I picked at it for a while before abandoning it.

With a sigh, I scraped off the plate into the bin and washed up before heading over to my sofa and dropping onto it, putting my feet up as I crossed my arms behind my head and stared at the ceiling while I went over the conversation of last night.

Gwiber.

A name that inspired fear in some places even centuries after the last recorded encounter. That there was a family of them living in York was remarkable. That there was a family of them that wasn't known about by the covens and eradicated was even more so.

Out of all those most hated races of the supernatural world, the Gwiber were second only to my own.

The library was closed, not that it would have been much help, and even if it wasn't, my car was still at the office, so I had limited transport to get anywhere. What I would have given, though, for access to my family's library of the occult and mythological.

Or the family history, as my cousin had once remarked snarkily.

I smiled at that memory. Jamie. He'd been one of the few who would even speak to me without being forced to and he'd never belittled me or been mean like the others. He'd not spent his days reminding me of what I was like Elspeth, or threatening to reveal what I was like, Robert.

No. He had been kind, and sweet, and the closest thing to a friend I had in that family.

Another sigh, the memories turning my mood dark as I lay there, and I pushed myself up. I needed to be doing something, and there was one thing I absolutely had to do.

My attempt at disposing of Kenny's body had been rushed, and I couldn't be sure of how well I had done. While it was a risk to visit that place again, especially in daylight, it was something I was sure I needed to do.

Especially since I was working with a werewolf who could smell my scent all over the damned rubbish bags and ground around the dumpsite. From what I'd seen, he was good at his job and like a dog with a bone when it came to a mystery.

No pun intended.

With a groan, I levered myself off the sofa and went in search of shoes. Then, once dressed, I grabbed my purse and my keys and headed for the door.

Tilly, for once, was nowhere to be found and as much as I liked the bubbly girl, I needed some alone time, so I hurried out of the building and along the road before she heard the movement and came in search of me.

Since I had no clue what times the buses were, I decided to walk into town. The morning sunshine was warm on my skin and my mood was high. There were few people about on the streets, most of them enjoying the warm weather in their gardens judging by the smell of barbecuing meat, and the laughter and general noise of people coming from houses all around me as I walked.

That brought a touch of sorrow, and longing for a family life I had never had.

Father had done the best he could, but his life was tied intrinsically to the family business, and that had come with responsibilities and ties he could not shake. Far too often I had spent weekends at Grandmothers house, being ignored by uncles and aunts, and tormented by my cousins.

The only truly happy times I had were at our modest home, with the friends I made amongst the human kids. Children who couldn't understand what I was or hate and fear me for it. They were the type of people who could just accept me for… me.

High school had led to college, and then university and I had thought I might have a chance of a real life, away from my extended family.

Then Father had died.

With his death had gone any pretence made by my family and I was forced to flee. To hide. To become someone new.

Emma Grey.

A sigh escaped me, and I shook my head, clearing them of those intrusive and unpleasant thoughts.

I had a new chance now, and the past was just that, the past. I'd made a friend in Tilly, and Jack was the kind of man I could enjoy working with. I was sure I'd learn a lot and perhaps, one day, I could even become an investigator myself.

The idea appealed more than I'd imagined it would just a few days ago.

A frown formed on my brow as I turned the corner and paused. There was my car where I'd left it, and Jack's jeep too, along with a black car I didn't recognise. I couldn't imagine him driving drunk, so assumed he'd been out already to retrieve it.

I hesitated beside my little green mini and glanced up at the building, eyes scanning the windows until I located Jack's office.

It was open, though I couldn't hear anything from where I was three floors below.

For a long moment I debated with myself whether I should go up. While I had to go and check on Kenny's remains, I couldn't shake the thought that I needed to know where Jack was with the investigation.

I needed to be kept fully in the loop, else I might well find myself suspect number one, without even realising it.

I headed inside.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs were the only warning I had, and I ducked into the dim shadows at the bottom of the stairwell and held my breath.

A large man came down, shoes appearing before trouser clad legs and large hands curled into casual fists. Broad shoulders and a neat beard along with dark glasses completed the picture and I shrank back, desperately wanting to remain unseen.

At the bottom of the stairs, Lucas adjusted his cuffs and smoothed his jacket, his polished shoes clicking on the floor. His dark glasses concealed his eyes, but his posture was tense as he glanced around before pushing through the stairwell door.

I exhaled a sharp breath, whispering thanks for the shadows before hurrying up the stairs two at a time, I moved quickly to the office door and pushed it open before slipping inside.

I let out a yelp, my cheeks burning crimson as Jack looked over from where he stood behind his desk.

Dark curls framed his chest, tapering into a line down his sculped abs, drawing my gaze before I caught myself. My eyes went round, and I spun, cheeks aflame.

"You're naked!" I squealed.

Impressively so.

"Wasn't expecting you," Jack said, apparently entirely unperturbed.

I turned my head, just enough that I could speak clearly to him and not at all so that I could catch another glimpse of his more than impressive form from the corner of my eye.

"Sorry, I came for my car. Figured I'd check in on you."

Jack pulled his pants on, and I sighed. All that did was remind me of what was beneath them.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a folded t-shirt and slipped it on. It was too tight across the chest and around his biceps, and I couldn't slow my wandering thoughts as I licked suddenly dry lips and tried to slow my breathing.

The werewolf chuckled in a way that suggested he knew exactly what was going on with me and I cringed, hoping for the floor to collapse and take me with it.

"I'm fine," he said, then paused. "Thanks though."

"No problem," I squeaked.

He finished dressing and I turned back around, fanning my cheeks that still burned crimson. "Hot in here," I muttered, ignoring Jack's amused expression. "Do you want-" I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath and tried again. "Do you need me today?"

"I need to run," he said. "You're welcome to join me. Can't do much until dark anyway."

"What do you mean?"

His amusement faded and his eyes got a hard look to them as he pressed his knuckles down against the desk, leaning forward. "I know where the Gwiber are."

"Where?"

"North of the city, a farm near the River Ouse."

"Why visit them after dark?" I asked, a rush of fear driving away any other feelings that I may have been feeling.

"They're not welcoming," he said. "I'm going to need you to go in and talk to them."

That surprised me, and I stared at him, wide-eyed as I digested that. "Me!"

"I'll be close," he promised. "You'll be safe. I assure you."

"But, why me?"

"They'll not listen to me." His lips twisted into a sneer. "I've tried before."

His expression made it clear that he didn't want to talk about it, but I didn't care. I needed to know if I wasn't going to go in there blind.

"Tell me about it," I said, keeping my voice as firm as I could. "I'm going to need to know if I'm to be useful."

He stared back at me for some time as he considered, and I was proud of myself for not looking away. Finally, he gave a curt nod.

"Okay."

Then he began to talk, and as he did, I felt a mounting horror. A feeling of deep-seated anguish and helplessness as he told that sordid tale, and I sank onto the desk, knees shaking as the full horror of what he was telling me sank in.

When he was done, I wasn't surprised to find tears in my eyes, and for the first time since it had happened, I wasn't feeling guilty for killing Kenny.

In fact, I wished I could do it again.