Michael walked through what looked like a
dining nook and turned right. He stopped short in the doorway and
swore again, and then again, even more foully, before he went into
the room.
Ilene followed and stopped at the entrance to
the room. Michael leaned over the crumpled form of an elderly man,
his fingers at the throat, searching for a pulse. She reached out
with her inner senses to check for any life activity in the body.
Found none. The bluish/green swirl and sandalwood scent told her
Michael had already done the same, but his hand on the man’s neck
suggested he didn’t want to believe the results.
After a moment, he looked up at her. The
anger that always simmered just below the surface showed openly
now. His expression held a raw-edged fury that made her step back,
thou
