Page 22 of Don't Bait Me (Nora Jacobs 3)

All of the fey gape, stunned, at Terrance. He’s immune to their shock and looks of disgust. His attitude makes me smile. He really doesn’t give a shit what people think. If he wants a vampire in his clan, then he’ll damn well have a vampire in his clan, and everyone else can shut up about it. It warms my heart, as does the thought that Parker is my clan now.

I realize something else. When Terrance said Parker would protect me, it hadn’t been a suggestion. Not surprising, because Terrance isn’t the type tosuggestanything. But it was more than that. It had been a command to Parker from his new clan leader. I wonder if Parker realizes that. Probably. He’s been part of a clan his whole long, long, long life.

Hopefully having a clan to belong to and a leader to take orders from will get rid of the melancholy that’s been plaguing Parker since Henry disowned him. He does already seem a little perkier than he had when he came in. I’m relieved that he’ll be with me on this one. I don’t like being the target of a serial killer, and no matter what everyone seems to think, I’m not a freaking detective. Parker’s thing is security. He’ll be a huge help with this.

In an attempt to break the awkward, tense silence, I rub my hands together with a loud clap. “Okay,” I say when I have everyone’s attention. “My brand of help is sort of hands-on.” I look at Laagh, hoping he won’t take offense to my next request. “You said a member of your clan was murdered last night. Can you take me to the scene of the crime?”

Laagh frowns, rightfully confused, but doesn’t argue. “Yes. I can take you there.”

“Great. That should help. I won’t be done here until three or so, but if you don’t mind waiting—”

“Go, Nora,” Terrance interrupts. “And take as much time off to solve this as you need.”

Surprised, I turn to the troll. He waves me off. “This is more important. Just be careful, and don’t do anything without Parker.” He glares at Parker next. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Parker nods. “You have my word.”

Parker and I followLaagh to one of the nicer neighborhoods in the city. It’s one of the revitalized spots not too far from the casino and the cleaned up downtown area. There’s some nightlife and quite a number of restored historical homes. We drive down a quiet residential street that’s well lit, been very well maintained, and is actually kind of cute—a rarity in Detroit but refreshing to know that places like this exist here. With the foot of snow on the ground, blanketing the yards, it almost looks magical. “This place is adorable,” I admit to Parker as Laagh pulls up to a modest two-story brick home with a small manicured front yard.

“Not surprising,” Parker says, turning off the car’s engine. He leans forward to look at the house in front of us. “Brownies take great pride in keeping things clean and well maintained. In fact, most of them work as housekeepers, handymen, gardeners…those sorts of things.”

I nod absently as I continue to scan our surroundings. “Well, kudos to them. It’s too bad there aren’t more of them in this town. The city could use their help.”

Parker chuckles. “You’re not far off. There is quite a large brownie population here in Detroit compared to other cities. It’s in their nature to want to clean and fix things. To fix and clean up entire neighborhoods is very enticing to their kind. Laagh’s clan is behind most of Corktown’s recent revitalization.”

I blink in surprise. “That’s…interesting.”

It’s crazy how the more I learn of the underworld, the less I fear it. Yes, it can be dangerous and violent, and I’ve been nearly killed a number of times since joining it, but it’s not one giant nightmare. There are some amazing people, and really, it’s the underworlders that seem to keep the heart of this city beating.

I’m still shaking my head in disbelief when Parker rounds the car to open my door for me. “Come on, Nancy Drew, let’s go investigate a crime scene.”

We meet Laagh on the steps of the front porch. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the large, dark stain in front of the door is from blood. I sigh as I squat beside the frozen, dried puddle. I really don’t want to touch the blood, but if I’m going to get an imprint, that’s where I’m going to find it.

“Nora?” Parker questions quietly.

I shake my head and blow some warmth into my icy hands. “It’s all right. Just give me a second.”

I place my palm down on the porch right in the center of the bloodstain. Immediately, I’m pulled into the events of yesterday. The imprint is a strong one. I can feel the intensity of it, and I know I’ll suffer the effects of it once it’s over.

It’s dark, and the street is quiet. A short man dressed in black pants and a dark green polo pushes a key into the lock on the front door. He’s wearing a casino nametag on his shirt that identifies him as Kimral Bonecoat—housekeeping manager. He’s tired but content, and completely unassuming.

As he turns the key in the lock, there’s a quiet whistle, and then he’s struck in the back with an arrow. His body jerks from the contact, and a second arrow pierces his back beside the first one. With a gasp, he crumples to the ground. He falls facedown, and his last few seconds of life are spent in agony as he chokes on his own blood. I’m so shocked by the sudden attack that I stand there, stupefied.It’s not until I hear tires squealing that I think to look around. I twist my head to see if I can see anyone on the street, but all I catch is a glimpse of a black SUV speeding off before I’m pulled from the vision.

I leave the vision with a gasp, and Parker is right there to catch me. “Nora?” he whispers, voice filled with concern. He helps me sit down on the porch while I try to catch my breath.

“I’m all right,” I promise. “I’ve never witnessed a death in an imprint before. It was…intense.” I clutch my chest where I can still feel some of the lingering pain.

“Imprint?” Laagh asks while Parker says, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Nodding to Parker, I look at Laagh. “I see visions of the past. Short memories tied to strong emotion. Your friend was shot in the back with arrows.”

Laagh’s eyes widen, and he nods. “Yes. Iron-tipped arrows.”

“Just like Terrance.Exactlylike Terrance. He had no clue—didn’t suspect a thing. And a black SUV sped away. I still couldn’t get any details about the vehicle other than black SUV.”

I sigh, frustrated. This is the first time since I started using my visions to try and help people that I’ve had one with no clues. “There was absolutely nothing helpful in that imprint. Nothing. I’ve got no more to go off of than I had with Terrance. And there’s no way to get another imprint. The killer was mobile. I have nothing else to touch.” I rack my brain for something—anything—that could help. I don’t like feeling useless. “The arrows!” I glance at Laagh. “Do you still have the arrows? I don’t know why I didn’t think of that with Terrance.”

It takes Laagh a moment to answer me. “I…yes, I have them.” He blinks at me. “So…you can see visions?”

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