Free Winter Wolf by RJ Blain Page B

didn’t realize I hadn’t always been a pretty face with a sandpaper voice. Deciding I didn’t want to press the point, I shrugged. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept it, Detective.”
    “For the next few days, I’m going to assign a patrol to keep an eye on your apartment and wherever you go, just to make certain you’re not a target.”
    Was a protective detail normal? I didn’t know, but something about the whole thing sent shivers down my spine. Scott’s death wasn’t natural; I knew that, and anyone with half a brain knew it too. But why protect me?
    I hadn’t seen anything.
    “So long as they don’t interrupt my work.”
    Detective Harding scowled. “They won’t.”
    I was a little relieved at his hard tone; it was more what I expected from him. “Then I’m fine with them keeping a watch. I just won’t run and hide. I hope you understand.”
    “I wouldn’t either.” This time, I heard respect in his voice. “Why aren’t you afraid?”
    “Who said I wasn’t? I am.” I wasn’t scared in the way he thought I would be. I almost wanted Scott’s killer coming for me. So long as I saw him—or her—coming, I’d take a perverse amount of joy in eradicating them from existence.
    “Maybe you’re a better actress than I thought.”
    “Why thank you.”
    Detective Harding dropped me off in front of my apartment building. He held the door open for me, and waited with infinite patience as I organized my bags so I could carry them inside.
    “If you have any questions or remember anything, call me,” he ordered, handing me a business card. I took it, dropping it into one of my bags.
    I wouldn’t call him, but he didn’t need to know that.
    When I went back inside my apartment complex, Detective Harding pulled away. A dark, unmarked car took over the parking spot in front of the building. I shivered and once again felt watching eyes on my back.
    Shuffling inside, I paused at the entry to dig out my card. A chill swept through me as a second black car joined the first on the other side of the street. I hurried inside.

Chapter Five
     
     
    Back in my apartment, I paced the main room, circling my couch as I tried to decide what to do. There was nothing I could do—not without using magic. I didn’t know anything about being a detective. I certainly didn’t know anything about how to pull off a murder as horrific as Scott’s. What I did know bothered me.
    Magic and blood got along a little too well. Blood represented life and death, and it was a direct manifestation of a person’s existence. With Scott’s blood, I could scry into the past and learn the true circumstances of his death. I couldn’t trust the police to do it, either. They meant well, but how could they hunt down a killer who defied the laws of science?
    I had to act. I had to do something. While I couldn’t bring the dead back to life, with Scott’s blood, I could find his killer. I clutched my bloodstained copy of Among Us to me. I could still back out.
    Changing the past was outside of my abilities, but maybe I could experience it, study it, and learn from it. Maybe that’s why the Inquisition feared wizards: Death, destruction, and fire were my domains, and all I needed to fuel my powers was electricity.
    When I thought about it that way, maybe the Inquisition had it right, and I deserved to be put down for existing. I hadn’t killed anyone—not yet—but unless I kept firm control over my abilities, it would only be a matter of time. I shook my head and tried to push aside my morbid thoughts.
    It didn’t work.
    I drew a deep breath and sighed. I couldn’t delude myself anymore: I was dangerous. I could be dangerous.
    I was so tired of being a coward, hiding whenever anything threatening came my way. If I was going to be hunted because I endangered others, I wanted to be dangerous. At least there’d be cause for what I endured.
    Underneath my guilt and anguish, anger simmered within me, primed to boil over in