“That’s really amazing.”
She stood up from the chair. “I don’t understand why Viktor drags me along on these murder cases. If there’s something I need to see, photograph it and show me later. All going to the crime scene does is make me sad.”
I ran my finger through the flame. “He asks you because you’re smart. He asksmebecause I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies.”
Gem held up her fingers, and a spark of light danced between her fingertips. “I hope whoever did it gets what’s coming to him. Just think, those two men we caught lived for a thousand years before their crime was uncovered, and you don’t want to know how they killed their Creator.” She shivered and walked away from the desk, her long shadow following behind her. “I thought when Viktor hired you that it was a good sign I wouldn’t have to see any more dead bodies.”
I traced my finger around a knot in the wood. “Maybe once I get the hang of things.”
She pulled out an old book and thumbed through it.
“What’s that one?” I asked.
She turned around. “This morning I got a close look at a tattoo that Shepherd noticed on the victim’s shoulder. They were words written in another language—one I’m familiar with because there’s only one tribe that speaks it. Sometimes people get ideas from tattoo artists, so I’m trying to find out where that pocket of Shifters settled. It’s in one of these old books, but I can’t remember which one. If the settlement was here in the States, then Wyatt’s going to check all the registered tattoo artists to see if any of them are associated with the tribe. She could have gotten the tattoo a million years ago, so it’s a shot in the dark.”
I stood up and pushed in the chair. “I haven’t heard from Wyatt since we came home. Maybe I should go check on him and give you some privacy.”
After a few long seconds, Gem looked up from her book and blinked. “What?”
“Never mind,” I said, realizing the wheels in her head were turning. “I’ll leave you to your work. Thanks for showing me who you are. I promise not to bother you down here.”
“Thanks,” she said, easing into a leather chair by the wall, lost in her book.
I left Gem alone and strolled down the long hall. Now I understood why I’d become so consumed with the murders. Everyone else had other jobs to keep their minds occupied. I ascended the stairs, frustrated that I had pieces to the puzzle but not enough to make them fit. If this case dragged on for years, I might actually go insane.
When I reached Wyatt’s game room, I lightly knocked on the door even though everyone else usually barged in.
“Enter at your own peril,” he answered.
I walked in and switched on the desk lamp to my right. “It’s kind of dark and depressing in here. Are you holding a séance?”
He rubbed his eyes and swiveled his leather chair away from the computer. Wyatt’s retreat didn’t have windows to bring in natural light. The modern black sofa on the left had colorful pillows, which made the room seem more like a lounge. A few beanbag chairs were propped in front of the huge television on the wall straight ahead, which he used for gaming and catching up on reruns ofSupernatural. It was one of the few rooms in the mansion with electricity, and it didn’t have a Gothic fireplace or walls made from stone.
He rolled by me and kicked the door shut.
I took a seat in another leather chair he’d pushed out of the way. “Is Casper still bugging you?”
Wyatt slouched in the chair and tossed his beanie on the desk. “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.”
“Maybe it’s whatyoubelieve that matters.”
He conjured a dazzling smile, carving a line in his cheek. “You’re starting to sound like a shrink. No, it’s been quiet around here today. We worked out an arrangement that’s keeping him busy. Just don’t go into the red room.”
“What red room?”
“Never you mind, little girl.” He stretched his arms and made a strained growl. “Since the victims were found in the human district, Viktor had me search for surveillance cameras near the crime scenes. It took some effort to get the footage, but I’ve been going through it for hours.”
“Any revelations?”
“They should put brighter streetlamps on the road. I can’t make out anything from today’s murder, but the last one we got decent footage of the main street in front of the bar. There’s just one problem.”
I arched an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Wyatt gazed up at the ceiling as his chair did a full turn. “Guess how many cars drive down that road every minute in each direction? Ninety.”
“That’s not so bad. How many years does a Gravewalker live?”
He chuckled and munched on a few greasy chips. “You’re funny. So did you come up with any theories?”
