Two psychics, two werewolves, and a psychic human alpha walk up to a crime scene….
It was like the beginning of a very bad joke, and I found myself wishing that Macbeth were there to share it with. Instead, our merry little band—River, Ink, Jed, Selena, and me—stood in absolute silence, the wind cutting through the trees with a high-pitched whistle and carrying new scents to the Weres’ noses.
“There’s no one around for miles,” River told us. “That it?”
She jerked her head toward a house in the distance, and I nodded, even though there was nothing about the way the house looked—from the outside, in the dark—that would have tipped off the average observer to the fact that days earlier, someone had been murdered there.
Unconsciously, I began running through everything we knew about the ci
