What? The Nosferatin ran them out of town?

  “Work with your detective, Georgia,” Jett instructed. “And keep me informed. If the Taniwha are back, I want to know.”

  OK. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be a Taniwha by the steely glint I saw in Jett’s eyes right then.

  I stood up and crossed to his office door, which had somehow shut behind me when I’d entered and I hadn’t even noticed.

  Does a vampire still scream if they’re locked behind a soundproofed door?

  I shook my head and reached for the handle. It didn’t budge when I rattled it.

  I looked over my shoulder at Jett.

  He smiled. Nope, not friendly.

  “One more thing,” he said and I felt my Dark Shadow shudder. “Have you chosen?”

  Had I chosen a mate.

  Him or Samson. As far as they were both concerned, I was going to pick one of them and pick one of them soon.

  “No,” I said and the Dark Shadow offered me my Light.

  I didn’t aim for Jett. He’d only get off on it. I threw it at the door as the Dark Shadow threw her Sanguis Vitam along with it. Light and blood life force combined. The door blew back off its hinges, slivers of wood flying in every direction, Jett’s Sanguis Vitam snapping back to him where he still sat.

  We are not prey to be trapped, she said.

  Damn straight, I agreed and stomped out the door.

  6

  Betrayal

  The night was still young in vampire terms, and as I was on a deadline with the fairy, I decided I’d touch base with Mark again and see if I could get anything at any of the other abduction scenes. As soon as Aliath whisked me away to Álfheimr, I’d be useless to the police. And despite evidence to the contrary, I did still want to help the Norms.

  The Dark Shadow sniffed at that but said nothing.

  I slipped my cellphone out of my pocket and dialled the detective. He answered on the eighteenth ring. I didn’t need the Dark Shadow’s flash of claws to feel aggrieved.

  “Georgia,” he said, resignation dripping off my name.

  “Mark.”

  I let the silence expand between us, filling up all the gaps I wanted to fill with recriminations.

  “What can I do for you?” he finally said, the resignation replaced with wariness.

  A part of me hated that he felt this way. A part of me understood. And a part of me that was currently steeped in Darkness didn’t give a flying fuck.

  “The other scenes,” I said. “I should check them out. See if there’s anything more I gain that might help.”

  “Did you get permission from your…boss to tell me what you found out at the Carrows?”

  It took effort to suppress the growl.

  “I’ll know more once I scent the other scenes,” I said.

  He sighed. “All right, I’ll text the addresses. One was outside, so you don’t need me there. But the other was home when he was taken. Well, his girlfriend’s home not his.”

  “We’ll start there then,” I said and hung up.

  I stood still, listening to the sounds of Auckland City late at night, taking in the smells of a metropolitan area when all the shops are closed. I could hear the loud thump of music from a nearby club. I could smell the distinct scent of marijuana on the air. I picked out a couple having sex in their apartment above a popular department store. I homed in on someone being mugged. A cheek was slapped somewhere.

  Then my cellphone buzzed with the addresses, and I came back to myself. I checked the screen and then bled into the shadows, aware my momentary lapse of motion had been caused by more than a desire to catalogue my surroundings. That had been me at one time; laughing, drinking, loving, arguing. That had been me.

  I made it to the girlfriend’s address before Mark did. Pumped up on so much human blood, I felt invincible. Speed and shadows my friend. I stood across the street from the block of flats she lived in, trying not to listen/scent/feel. The Dark Shadow thought I was being ridiculous.

  Are we not a hunter? she said.

  I said nothing.

  Mark’s unmarked police sedan rolled to a stop outside the entrance to the two storey building. I saw him speak into his radio; I could have listened but chose not to. And then he checked his service weapon, his reflection in the mirror, and stepped out. He looked around, his eyes sweeping over where I hid. He didn’t see me.

  Prey, the Dark Shadow said.

  No, I replied and left the shadows.

  Mark noticed me when I wanted him to notice me. Partway across the road, as if I’d simply just arrived.

  “Right,” he said as if bolstering himself up for what was likely to come. “This way, then.”

  “No hello?” I asked.

  “This isn’t a social call,” he replied.

  “Pity. I’ve got such good party tricks.”

  He gave me a grim look and then walked up to one of the ground floor flats and knocked on the ranch slider.

  A light flicked on inside, and a curtain was pulled back. A young woman, mid-twenties I’d say, peered out at Mark’s police badge as he held it up to the light.

  “Ms Wyeth?” he said. “Detective Anderson, CIB. This is my associate. Can we come in, please?”

  She opened the door and looked up at him. I didn’t need to inhale to recognise hope.

  “You’ve found him?”

  “Ah, no, ma’am,” Mark said. “We just need to ask a few more questions.”

  “Oh, all right. Come in.”

  She turned away so missed Mark’s wince. I’d been invited in, and he couldn’t rescind the invitation. She had to. He looked over his shoulder and gave me another grim stare; this one spoke volumes.

  I stared back and let the Dark Shadow out; just a little. Back off!

  He scowled and crossed through to the open plan living/dining/kitchen. Rather like my apartment, I thought. Minus the tea stain on the carpet.

  Ms Wyeth took a seat on the couch, reaching forward to switch the TV off. I didn’t catch what she’d been watching. From the look of her, I doubted she’d been actually watching it at all.

  Mark stood off to the side, a large man looming over a frightened young woman. It wasn’t like him, but I was guessing the whole invitation thing had thrown him off. He wasn’t used to protecting people behind their own locked doors. It messed with his sense of what was right.

  I stepped forward and took a seat opposite the woman. Time was marching. Someone had to get this show on the road.

  “Hi,” I said. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” The Dark Shadow would have rolled her eyeballs if she’d had them. “Can you tell me where you were when…” I realised I didn’t even know the name of the MP who had been abducted. “When you think he was taken.”

  I shot Mark a glare. He scowled back.

  “In the bedroom,” she said. “I remember we’d just, well, you know, and he was lying in bed while I went to the bathroom. I don’t think I made the bathroom, because the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor, and the bed was empty.”

  “Why do you think he was taken and didn’t just leave?”

  She grimaced, a flush sweeping up her cheeks.

  “All his clothes were still there,” she said quietly. But she wasn’t sure. She had doubts.

  I was pretty sure he was taken; he was still missing after all. But the poor girl didn’t have the sort of relationship with the guy that guaranteed loyalty.

  I looked at Mark. He was looking at the woman with compassionate eyes. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Then pushed it away as a waste of time.

  “Is there anything else you remember about that night?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Nothing out of place in your apartment?”

  “No,” she said. “Just David missing.”

  The name didn’t tell me much. But I’d address that with Mark later.

  “Ms Wyeth,” I said, making her raise her face and look me in the eye.

  I glazed her. It was easy. Exactly how it should be. Except for freaks of nature like Mark.

  “Remember,” I said, my voice deep and multilayered. The Dark Shadow’s voice.

  “What are you doing?” Mark said, stepping forward.

  “Helping you,” I said, my voice again mine.

  I watched as the woman’s face blanked and all life slipped from her eyes. An automaton sat before me, mouth slack, breaths slow, hands lying impotently at her sides.

  “Remember,” I said again, the Dark Shadow rising. “Tell me what you see of that night?”

  “Shapes,” she whispered. “So dark,” she said. “Shark.”

  And then she promptly fell over sideways onto the couch, not making a sound.

  Mark rushed forward and checked her pulse and breathing. His hand shook slightly. His face was pale. I sat back and watched as he positioned her more carefully on the settee, purposefully not looking at me.

  “Is that normal?” he asked when he was done, still not making eye contact. “The passing out,” he clarified.

  “No,” I said and stood up.

  I walked into the attached bedroom. You couldn’t exactly get lost in here; it was tiny. Members of Parliament got paid a lot; you’d think he’d set his mistress up in something nicer. But once I reached the bed, I realised where his priorities were. The bed was enormous, luxurious, and adorned with all manner of sex toys.

  I stared at it for a moment and then glanced at the window. Another ranch slider. I walked toward it and inhaled, scenting the woman’s signature scent and several others. I had no way of knowing which was the minister’s, but I catalogued each, finding no crossover to Malcolm Carrow. I walked back to the bed and leaned down to sniff it. The woman and one man. At least, she was faithful, and I had the MP’s scent now.

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Do you need to know?” Mark replied from the doorway.

  I didn’t need to know, but it rankled that he was keeping information from me. A reminder that I was simply a tool and not a partner. Jett, though, would want to know. And curiosity was getting the better of me.

  I stood up and faced him.

  “Quid pro quo,” I said. “You want what I’ve got; I want to know who the MPs are who’ve been taken and what the connection is.”

  “We’re not sure about the connection, other than they’re all members of parliament. Two from the Labour Party and one from National as you already know. And since when was this an even exchange of information.”

  “Since I have information to give.”

  He stared at me. I stared back. Mine was more impassive than his.

  “Georgia,” he said, cracking first. “We’re trying to keep this out of the press.”

  “And you think I spend my free time gossiping with reporters?” I asked dryly.

  “Your boss,” he said. “Master of the City you called him. Sounds like he might be the kind of…man who manipulates situations to his best advantage. How do I know you won’t share this information with him and he then won’t use it for his own purposes?”

  “You don’t.”

  He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

  “Then I can’t tell you more than you need to know,” he said. “And you don’t need to know names.”

  “I know of Malcolm Carrow.”

  “Couldn’t avoid that, seeing as he was taken at home. But I’m not giving you more.”

  I stared at him; he wasn’t going to cave. I could have withheld what I’d discovered, but he’d think I was being petty. My Dark Shadow disagreed.

  We are not easy, she said.

  If we work with him now, give him a show of faith, it might help us out in the future, I countered.

  She said nothing, letting me judge what was the right path to take regarding human relations.

  “They used this ranch slider,” I said, indicating the one in the bedroom. “Their scent is not in the lounge.”

  “OK. We couldn’t find any prints.”

  I shook my head. “No, you wouldn’t.” They’d been in their alternate forms. Their supernatural forms. Taniwha smelling of wet dog. “They’re shapeshifters,” I said, not prepared to tell Mark what shape they took just yet.

  I needed to do some research of my own. I had a basic knowledge of what the Taniwha looked like, but I’d never met one. Until now, I thought they simply kept to themselves. But clearly, that had been a wrong assumption. Lucinda’s sticky mitts were all over their absence. And I knew exactly who to ask about that.

  The Dark Shadow perked up at the thought.

  I ignored her.

  “None of those present tonight were present at the Carrow’s house,” I said to Mark.

  He frowned. “They were taken on separate nights.”

  “So far,” I said, “I smell four different scents for your abductors.”

  “Four different shapeshifters,” Mark said, voice uneven.

  “Yes.”

  He ran a hand through his hair.

  “How the hell do I tell my chief that?” he said.

  I smiled. It wasn’t friendly. Although it was amused.

  “Welcome to my World, Detective.”

  “Funny,” he said, not sounding entertained at all. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  He stared at me. “What am I dealing with here, Georgia?”

  “I can’t possibly guess if I don’t have all the facts.”

  “You’re not getting the names.”

  “Then I can’t help you.”

  I walked to the ranch slider and opened it up, letting the scents of the night invade my nostrils. I stepped out and inhaled deeply. No threats nearby. Just the night calling.

  I’d never felt as comfortable with the darkness as I did right at that moment.

  Hunt, the Dark Shadow said. Hunt mate, she added.

  And there went my enjoyment in the evening.

  “You think this is a game?” Mark said from behind me.

  I turned and looked at him, but said nothing. Silence is often a good tool.

  “What kind of shapeshifter? Werewolves? Werewolves exist, right? Are there others? What took these people, Georgia? Am I dealing with claws and sharp teeth? Larger than a grizzly? It wasn’t the full moon. How did they change? Should I be worried that it is the full moon in three days? Georgia,” he said, looking ragged and exhausted already. “Help me out here. Help me keep my people safe.”

  His people. Because they were no longer my people. I was no longer a human. A Norm. I was the monster who hunted them as my prey. Just like these shapeshifters were. Did Taniwha hunt humans? Is that why Lucinda had run them out of Auckland? Would she feel the pull if one of them attempted to kill? Would I?

  Which made me realise I hadn’t felt the pull all night. I wasn’t sure what to think about that. I hadn’t drawn a stake since before Álfheimr either. I suddenly wondered if I still could. I needed an invitation to enter a human’s home now. Would silver harm me? I didn’t want to know.

  I shook my head. How much could I tell Mark and not have Jett use his Sanguis Vitam on my throat?

  He did say work with the detective. To do that, Mark needed to be prepared.

  “I’ve never met one,” I said. “Only heard about them.” I didn’t tell him they weren’t meant to be here still. That seemed like a supernatural problem, something Jett would sharpen his fangs on if he knew I had shared it. But I did add, “These ones are native to New Zealand; I know that much. They smell like wet dog.”

  “Wet dog? Like a werewolf, then?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I’ll find out.” Whether I could get that information to Mark before Aliath came calling, I wasn’t sure.

  I looked up at the night sky. The moon was almost gone.

  Fuck my life. Samson would already be at home.

  I pushed the excitement my Dark Shadow felt at that thought aside and concentrated on Mark.

  “OK,” he said. “Good,” he added, resolution and determination wafted off him. “If you could get that to me as soon as you can, I’d be grateful.”

  It was the first time he’d shown gratitude at all.

  “There’s one more thing you need to know,” I said.

  He stilled, looking wary now. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

  It no longer hurt. I was numb to it now. You feel something enough; you become desensitised to it. I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not.

  “What?” Mark asked.

  “They’re New Zealand natives,” I said. “We call them Taniwha.”

  “Jesus,” Mark whispered. “The myths are true?”

  Māori myths, he meant. In Māori folklore, Taniwha were considered both sacred and monstrous. Water guardians with predatory leanings.

  “Shark, she said,” Mark whispered. “Nancy Wyeth called them sharks.”

  “I suggest you do some reading,” I offered.

  “Yeah,” he said, still whispering. “And you?”

  “Our legends are handed down in a different way.”

  “You’re going back to your boss?” He didn’t seem happy about that.

  I shook my head and looked off towards where I knew St Heliers Bay waited.

  Where Samson waited.

  “A friend,” I said, not sure if I could call him that again or not. But knowing I couldn’t call him my lover.

  Not now. Not ever. Betrayal by a friend was somehow easier to contemplate than betrayal by a lover.

  I looked back at Nancy Wyeth’s flat and wondered if she feared her lover would one day betray her.

  I’d never place myself in that position again.

  7

  Shock

  The sun was still a few minutes off when I made it to St Heliers. I’d used the shadows and flashed here, simply because I could. I still would have made it with time to spare if I’d taken a taxi. I wondered if the choice I’d made said something about how Dark I was becoming or if it said more about how much of my new life I was accepting without pause.

  Part of me knew the acceptance was not a good thing. I was way too screwed up to be happy with what I was and where I was going with it.