Free Blood of the Pride by Sheryl Nantus Page B

away from me, please.” I closed my eyes again as they readjusted to the dark. My senses were reeling from the musk of a Felis male, two strong Felis women and a single, very strong human male who kept muddying the waters. One of us was dead and the other the killer.
    It would seem that all I had to do now was race back to the farm and hand them the hair to have them check it against the database, but that wasn’t going to happen. We didn’t keep records like that. There were still some things in which the Pride were woefully behind, and creating a database of all Felis DNA was one of them, or had been when I’d left.
    “Right. I’m out of here.” I stepped over the imaginary body and made my way out the narrow passage onto the street, pulling in a deep lungful of relatively clean air.
    Something swept across my senses, a wave so overpowering it threatened to swamp me. I held my ground in the dizzying haze of food carts, diesel exhaust and body odor from the unwashed masses, turning around slowly to try and find the source. It was Felis, that much was sure, but too little to identify. Had Jess put a tail on me or was there another nearby?
    “And…” Bran appeared behind me, letting out a cough. “Where to next?”
    I shook off the feeling I was being watched. There were hundreds of Felis in Toronto who lived and worked every day just like I did. It wasn’t impossible for one of them to have just passed me. “Me? I’m going home to sleep. You, you’re heading home, as well.” I waved at him as I walked away. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

Chapter 7
    The streets were filling up with tourists getting out from the stage shows or the movies, each looking for a nice slice of Toronto to take back home with them. As I maneuvered through the crowd I could hear Bran swearing behind me, but his voice faded with time and distance.
    I hopped the first streetcar that came my way, pushing my way through a posse of chattering teens to grab a seat near the back. I’d always been a fan of the Red Rocket and used it as much as possible. The cost of gas and downtown parking helped keep my driving down to a minimum, thank you very much. I glanced behind me as we lurched forward, grabbing the plastic seat next to me for support. Sure enough, I had lost Brandon in the crowd.
    I huffed when we slid to another stop, the back doors opening to let off another gaggle of chattering kids. There was something reassuring about the streetcar’s rocking motion and it helped tune down my overwhelmed senses. It wasn’t too often that I was at a murder scene and never that of a fellow Felis. Usually I dealt with runaway teens and adultery accusations with a few background searches tossed in. It wasn’t glamorous but it paid the bills.
    We rolled into Parkdale, one of the poorer Toronto neighborhoods. In a nearby darkened stairwell a man rocked back and forth, clutching his arms around his middle. Probably a heroin addict. It was a popular spot to hide in the shadows, shoot up and then go visiting the gods. My favorite reporter was nowhere in sight when I reached up to tap the bell cord, signaling my stop.
    The 24/7 convenience store had a neon sign announcing FRE H COF E and DO UTS, both of which I sure didn’t need. A trio of teenagers hung out in front of the store smoking cigarettes someone else must have bought for them. One glared at me through long greasy locks screaming for a shampoo and a buzz cut. I glared back and he shuffled closer to the neon sign.
    The walk down the street to the house was quiet and longer than it needed to be, with my thoughts racing all over the place. It wouldn’t be difficult to get hold of the Board and ask for information on all the members who were tall enough to meet my requirements—there weren’t a lot of Felis over six feet high—but it was going to be a bitch to quietly investigate the suspects to find out who killed Janey. I’d end up in more challenges than I could imagine or handle.