His Prey.

Chapter 2. Game set

Chapter 2 : Game set

Mal POV

Innocence.

The word echoed in my mind as I studied the victim lying in a pool of his own blood. Who is to determine if someone is truly innocent, did anyone have a right? To justify his actions, because they thought they knew the real definition between right and wrong? I snap a picture of his legs and raise my brow as I study the place where his genitals were supposed to be. His fingers were broken into different angels and his feet were gone. So did he attack him when he was in his human form or overpower him in his werewolf form? Was he a warlock? a vampire? No warlock dust and no bite marks. It didn’t make any sense. There wasn’t even a trace of magic. My eyes trail up to the victim's chest and I knew I needed to run a forensics test to determine if it was nails or something else used to carve the number five in his chest. The Serial killer was becoming bold. Attacking an Alpha. His face was unrecognizable, but I had a feeling he was the Manhattan packs Alpha’s son. Jackson Reed. His mate called his disappearance in just a couple of hours before. I studied his open eyes and the dried tears stained his torn cheeks. Usually magic can be traced back to the owner, but this must be something else.

“That's so inhuman,” the trainee mumbles next to me and I roll my eyes as I hand her my camera, catching the color of her face.

“You haven’t seen anything yet Carol, if you throw up on my crime scene I will have you removed from my team you got that?” I say and she nods furiously running to get my sample swabs. Her pink pixie cut and piercings didn’t fool me. She was as tough as a cupcake. I feel his presence behind me and I smirk as I look at him as he clears his throat. In normal circumstances he would be in-charge, but we functioned as a team when it came to serials. He flicks my keys hanging from the belt of my leather jeans as he lets go of a frustrated growl.

“This is the fifth kill in less than two months and it's impossible to determine if it’s the same serial,″ He says and I roll my eyes.

“I know it’s the same person, the serial makes sure all of their eyes are open,” I state and he huffs. I eye him over my shoulder.

“Why though? What could be the purpose of that?” he asks and runs his hand through his blond hair, his blue warlock eyes narrowed with irritation. He flicks my keys again. It became a habit when he was stressed.

“Frustrated that you can’t get a trace Tim?” I mock as I stuff my hands in my back pockets looking for some left over mentos. I pop one into my mouth and he gives me a glare to answer his question.

“He's poetic, maybe a vampire from the earlier centuries obsessed with the idea that his victims don’t deserve peace. They deserve nothing. Not even to have their eyes closed, but the writing is not like him. If it’s claws... we can cut our pool to just werewolves and shifters,” I say and he nods and relief floods his eyes.

We study the victim in silence as the rest of our team finishes up. I nod at Carol to do the swabbing of the wounds and under the nails and she swallows hard making me smirk. She became my problem because of my best friend standing next to me.

"How is she holding up,” I nod at him and we start walking back to his van.

“Your cousin is nothing like you,” I say and look over my shoulder in time to see her raise her eyes briefly to me in question.

I wait till we’re out of ear shot and smirk at him.

“You were more squeamish on your first day,” I joke and the look on his face stops me in my tracks and I burst out laughing at the memory of him throwing up in the trashcan next to the crime scene.

“I love d**k attached, not separated and it was shoved in his mouth, therefore any man would be squeamish!” he argues and then I see him tapping his fingers against his side. He was nervous, more than usual. What the hell was going on? He gives me a smile and I grin in question.

He throws his jacket on the backseat of his car and watches me. Oh great here it comes.

“Catherine mentioned you had a date this weekend, why you decided not to tell me is probably because it didn’t really happen right?”

There it is. Catherine was our team's control freak and total bombshell. She was currently at her sister's wedding in Ohio. When I saw a picture of them my jaw had literally dropped when I saw her dad was Jacob Coberg. The first Black African American vampire that led the House of shadows. One of the largest vampire crews in the world. Vampires functioned with houses. Coming from a background where she was always in control she liked perfecting things. She liked order and the idea that I was turning twenty six and haven't had a serious boyfriend yet freaked her out.

“It was that or she would set me up on a date with one of her weird stalker cousins! No thank you!”

He raises an eyebrow at me as he folds his arms over his chest. I throw my finger against his chest and glare up at him. I was short and at this moment I was mad about that too.

“Leave my love life out of this we're at a crime scene for pete sakes!” I say and he’s mood is suddenly grim. What the hell?

I remove my finger and look at him in question. He rubs his temples with his fingers.

“I was trying to make the situation light before! s**t!” Dar comes to stand next to him and eyes me. Our giant that looked like something right out of Twilight was the muscle on the team. Silent and intimidating. Also my favorite punch bag that gave it good back to me.

“What's up, big t**s?” I say and he doesn’t show any emotion. His eyes flicker to my small breasts. Well s**t that backfired. I stick my tongue out at him and he smirks. He was my big brother on the team even though he would deny it.

“We don’t have any leads and it’s bad Mal, like really bad,” Tim says to me and then runs his hand through his hair again. He shares a look with Dar and I go cold. His eyes keep looking back at the parking lot. “I tried, but now everything is going south!”

“Tim what? Tell me what’s wrong?” his shoulder tenses and then suddenly a black SUV with tinted windows comes driving straight towards us. Nobody climbs out as it comes to a stop right in front of us. I look at Tim. No f*****g way. This could not be happening right now.

I turn on my heels hearing Tim curse under his breath. I blow the dark blond hair that fell out of my ponytail out of my eyes and glare. I pull back the sleeves of my FBI bomber jacket, because things were about to get very messy. At least I was wearing my tight leather pants.

I kick their tire with my yellow gumboots and walk towards the driver's door. As the door starts to open I kick it shut again.

"Get your SID asses off of my crime scene or I’ll tear your f*****g heads off!” I warn and the man in the seat dips his dark glasses at me. Flashing his red vampire eyes through the window. I fold my arms over my chest showing him exactly how unintimidated I was.

I feel Tim’s hand on my shoulder and I throw him off glaring daggers as the vampire rolls down his window.

“Detective Tim! Seems to me your forensic scientist here thinks she’s entitled to talk to her superior like...”

“Like I don’t give a s**t? Well guess what f#cker I don’t,” I growl and his mouth falls open in shock.

He takes a sniff of my scent and I c**k my eyebrow at him. The audacity of the magical species in New York was above me.

“Human?” He says shocked that I wasn’t afraid or cowering away from him.

“Yeah surprise, the best serial forensic scientist in New York is a woman and 100% human!” I mock and narrow my eyes as I hear someone clear their throat on the back seat like they were trying not to laugh.

“Mal! Please calm down,” Tim begs next to me and I roll my eyes. I throw my hair over my shoulder as I slowly walk back to the crime scene, ignoring as the vampire starts shouting things at me about the dent in his car. “You knew this was going to happen, it's an Alpha’s son for pete sakes! Jackson Reed. Alpha Duncan’s son from the Manhattan pack! They thought we needed help!” Tim shouts and I glare at him over my shoulder.

“Well! They thought wrong!" I shout back and then Kit is running towards me, his green eyes big as golf balls.

'"I saw you kicking that car and I was like s**t she needs back up! You know when those brown eyes of yours start flashing my adrenaline is already pumpin!" he says dramatically and acts like he's loading his gun. After two years of working together he could still make me laugh when I thought a vein was going to pop in my head. Because of him I adored all Asians.

"Stick with the computer Kit it's more your thing!" I joke and he hands me some of the paperwork not taking his eyes off of the SID car.

My eyes start to scan over the first page.

Jackson was killed and discovered five minutes later by a couple whose car was right across from his. How did nobody see anything and why did the security cameras show nothing?

“I know your history with the SID and I totally understand if you want to whoop Tim’s ass…” he pauses and narrows his eyes at something behind me. His light skin turns slightly green in defense. His fey powers slipped between his fingers.

"Who the hell is that? I can't get a read on his scent," he asks as the sound of his voice turns inhuman. I hear a door slam. I will not turn around.

"Not our problem," I say and pat his shoulder. I walk to my car and throw open the door, not daring to look back at the SID team. I had to calm myself down and cover myself from their prying eyes before I lost my s**t completely. I place the paperwork on my lap as I smile at the bottle lying on my floor. The SID. Really? My parents' faces flash before my eyes and I take a sip of the whiskey. Then I see it as my eyes scan the first page again.

The GClub. I pause. I needed to go look at the other victims paperwork first before I made any assumptions. My door swings open. Tim is glaring at the bottle of whiskey in my hand. Oh s**t.

"Mel, get your ass to headquarters right now and away from this site!”