Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel, #1)

by Linsey Hall

Now, when I drank wine alone on my fire escape, it was like I was having a girls’ night out. As long as no one looked too hard at the fact that my gal pal walked on all fours and dressed like a furry bandit. Not to mention the fact that she had a real thing for rubbish.

Who needed human friends when they had a box of wine and a feral raccoon, anyway?

stared down at Cordelia, watching to see what she might pull out of the bin. It was like telly. Almost. I was too broke to own a telly, so it was good enough. As if on cue, Cordelia chucked something up at me. She rarely acknowledged my presence. Shocked, I reached out to catch whatever it was that she’d thrown. My hand closed around an old rag, and a vision slammed into me. Not again.

Quickly, I scanned my surroundings, adrenaline making me feel like I might burst. Humans were still animals, and right now, there was a hunter out there. I didn’t want to be its next prey.

I turned my attention back to the body. Everything was slick from the recent rain, even him. A tattoo wrapped around his neck, garish and big. A dragon. Blood ran in rivulets down the cobblestones, mingling with the rainwater. I edged away from it, not wanting to disturb anything.

I wasn’t a detective—not technically since I’d failed out of the College of Policing—but I did help the local department, and I was still keenly aware of my training.

always hoped to beat the killer to his terrible job—to get there before he did. I never did. Death won, every time.

Every freaking time, I’d failed. Even the most important time.

I’d found her dead in an alley, just like this. She’d been killed the same way. Tears pricked my eyes at the memory of my failure. Sometimes I saw the future, but when it came to death, I only saw the present. Or the past.

I should go. Run. If I were caught standing over the body, it would be the end of me. The cops had found me at the scene of Beatrix’s death, too. They would think I was the killer. You could only get caught at the scene of a crime so many times before logic pointed to you, and I was getting up there. Especially when you knew things about the death that they didn’t.

I ran my gaze over the man, spotting a tiny burn mark at the base of his throat. It was shaped like a spiral.

That same burn mark had been found on Beatrix’s body.

My gift—or curse, depending on my mood—worked when I touched something. I wasn’t crazy enough to think it was magic, but I had no idea what it was. I’d never met anyone else like me. Please work.

Why did I feel this…this pull toward him? Like knowledge. Like connection. Like two stars spinning through space about to collide with each other.

He shifted slightly so that light slashed across his face, revealing a sharp cheekbone and strong jaw. His lips were full—the only soft thing about him that I could see. A flash of white teeth gleamed in the darkness, two of them longer than the others. Pointed.

“Come to me.” His voice rumbled with low power, and my mind spun. “What?” I croaked. My visions never spoke to me. “Come to me.” His voice seemed to roll through me, lighting up nerve endings

Was the murderer really telling me to come to him? How? How was this even possible? How was any of my talent possible? “Did you do this?” My voice trembled. He didn’t respond, and his shadowy form disappeared.

He could be Beatrix’s killer. It was unacceptable

I’d already called in an anonymous tip to the police, hoping they’d arrive in time to prevent the murder. They hadn’t, but as soon as they did arrive,

My hand had just closed over a matchbook when I heard the shout from behind me: “Freeze!” Shit. Cold fear shivered down my spine. I’d lingered too long. Please be Corrigan. He was my only friend with the police, though “friend” was still a stretch. “Raise your hands!” a man shouted.

ran this risk every time I came to a murder scene, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying.

One of the policemen cursed, and I knew it had to be Corrigan. He’d told me he didn’t want to find me at one of these scenes again, even though I helped him close half his cases.

their forms silhouetted in the dark night by the streetlights behind them. The taller,

The shorter, skinnier one was just as familiar, and my heart sank. Banks.

Worse, he thought I was probably a killer. He’d made it his life’s work to get me for crimes I hadn’t committed. At t...

“You’ve never been standing right over a body wearing killer’s gloves before,” Banks said.

“Except no one issued them to you, did they?” Banks was close enough that I could see the triumph in his ratty little eyes. His pale skin was sallow and his expression pinched, but he was more excited than I’d seen him in years.

No one should be that excited while standing next to a person who’d just been viciously murdered.

His warm, dark skin looked ashen, and his eyes flickered with worry. “Carrow.” The disappointment in his words sent cold fear through me. Shit, shit, shit.

His deep baritone, which normally comforted me, was heavy with concern. “Looks bad?” Banks’s voice was high with annoyance and excitement. “Bad? It looks like we caught our killer. Finally.” The satisfaction in his voice made me want to kick him. My heart pounded. “You know I didn’t do this, Corrigan. You know it.”

Even though I knew I was already so many strikes down that one more “coincidence” would get me in real trouble, I hadn’t been able to ignore the possibility that I could help this poor man.

“I’ve helped you catch so many killers, you know I could never do this.” Corrigan’s lips twisted with regret.

touch, even after I’d failed out for insubordination and unusual methodology—my term, not theirs. He believed in my strange talent, or at least, he wasn’t willing to look a gift horse in the mouth.

but no one else believed me, so they’d assumed I got my info the bad way. The way they could understand. The way that was going to lead to my arrest.

Banks’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He’d finally won, and he knew it.

but Banks had no trouble. He leaned in. “I’ve got you this time.” “You have no idea what you’re doing, you idiot.” His jaw clenched, and he looked like he wanted to hit me. He probably did.

Suspicion flickered in their gazes as they looked at me, and my heart sank. Memories of all the cases I’d helped them solve flashed through my mind. So many. And now I was in handcuffs.

shackle the woman who’d drawn me into her visions.

Something pulled inside me, hard and fierce. Protect her. I rubbed a hand over my chest, confused.

since I’d been turned into a vampire nearly five hundred years ago. And yet, this human made me want to protect her? Why?

Pale eyes and skin, though the colors were so muted that it was impossible to determine shade. All colors were muted for turned vampires. Taste and smell, too. It all came with the curse of immortality, which felt more like being half dead.

But I didn’t crush the skulls of random men in alleys. It was beneath me.

Then she had arrived, then the cops. It was too many people for me. Too many humans. An insane vision popped into my head—me, storming the scene and taking the woman from them. It was ridiculous.

It would be far better if I could get her to come to me. Kidnapping her was hardly a good second impression…especially considering that our first meeting had revolved around a dead body. And I didn’t have any interest in unwilling women, no matter how much I might want her.

I’d completely bungled this. Hadn’t been careful enough. Hadn’t given myself enough time to search the body. I should have waited to call the cops, but I’d hoped they’d get there in time to save the victim if I couldn’t.

“I’ll do everything I can to help you, but…” “I know. You told me to lie low.”

And he had, but he didn’t know what it was like to know that someone was going to be murdered. I had to try to help them. I couldn’t ignore my visions, no matter what it meant for me. Anyway, I was tough. I’d figure a way

“Wait,” I said. “There’s no murder weapon. If I’d killed him, surely I’d have a bat or crowbar on me.” Banks grumbled. “A clever killer like you would find a way around that.” Bastard.

were already inspecting the body, trying to find clues to prove I’d done this. They were going to find the burn mark and make the connection with Beatrix’s death. I’d also been at the scene of that crime—right after the murderer left and right before they showed up. Talk about bad timing.

With every second that passed, I grew colder and colder. This was really happening. My life had been barreling toward this for months, but I’d ignored it. Corrigan had warned me. Show up at the scene of too many murders, and eventually, someone is going to think you’re a murderer. By the time Corrigan left the scene and came to talk to me in the interrogation room, I was frozen solid, a block of ice.