“No, you’re right. Something like this shouldn’t happen to anyone,” Sasha said quietly, looking at Ethan’s stricken expression.

Ethan ran a trembling palm over his partially balding scalp. His shoulders slumped; fatigue and grief were making his stout little frame seem to be that of a bewildered child. He looked from Sasha to Hunter, his gaze begging for answers.

Hunter raked his fingers through his hair and stared at the grisly remains. “And you’re sure Desidera didn’t have any run-ins with anyone, a Were, for example?”

Ethan stared up at him, looking confused. “I guess anything is possible, but I honestly never heard about anything so serious that someone would want to kill her over it. And when it’s all said and done, the supernatural community in New Orleans is a small one compared with the humans. Most likely we would have heard about such bad blood between a Phoenix and a Were. Why are you asking?”

“We picked up a feral Were scent,” Sasha said as calmly as possible. “Possibly female.”

The color drained from Ethan’s face. “I don’t know why you would smell a Were down here.”

“Did she have a changing room or an employee locker?” Sasha rubbed her temples. There had to be more to this than a dead Phoenix.

“Yes. Certainly,” Ethan said in a tense, clipped voice. “This way.”

Ethan moved up the steps as though someone were chasing him. Sasha and Hunter loped behind him, taking the narrow cellar stairs two at a time. But once they all exited, Ethan locked the door and tried to appear calm before his kitchen staff as he showed Sasha and Hunter to the employees-only section of the establishment.

“I have a changing room for them in here,” Ethan said in a private murmur to keep others from hearing, sounding more and more distraught as he spoke. “It’s all pink and white tiles, pretty with mirrors and vanity lights and marble benches with a private shower, so my girls can fully transform in comfort. That’s why Sir Rodney and I called you. Something just isn’t right about this. My Phoenixes have never had a problem like this… and I didn’t want to alert my other employees for fear of starting a panic in the Fae community just before all the galas. You now bring up the possibility that it could be some virus… I pray what she had isn’t contagious. Me own wife, Margaret, isn’t sure-and she’s an empath… a healer and she cannot make heads or tails of this.”

“No, no, no-I just had to ask that question,” Sasha said, holding him by both arms.

She waited until he calmed and then they entered the changing room. Now she wasn’t sure which was worse-murder or contagion? Guilt threaded its way around Sasha’s conscience and choked it. This was indeed a person, someone who was loved and cared for by others in the supernatural community. The last thing she should have been thinking of was a silly party or her birthday, or any issues between her and Hunter… it was just that work was always the focus and she’d been hoping for a break in the action for only a little while. Then again, she reasoned, she was blessed. At least she wasn’t charred ash, which certainly could have been the case when dealing with pissed off Vampires.

But that was then and this was now, besides, this girl didn’t have any direct enemies, a crazy boyfriend, or any of the makings of domestic troubles. A brief prayer crossed Sasha’s mind: Please God, don’t let it be some serial killer whack job, though.

Looking up at Ethan and then glancing at Hunter, she made sure her voice was gentle. “I guess I was just trying to rule out anything medical before we started down that path,” Sasha offered, hoping that it really was something benign that didn’t involve foul play.

Ethan nodded and released a sad sigh. “Here’s her locker.” He motioned toward it and then shrugged. “But I don’t have a key or the combination.”

Hunter reached out and yanked the door off. “No problem.”

“All right,” Ethan stammered. “Then… I should go to my office to report what we’ve learned thus far to Sir Rodney. Once you look through, please come up. I know he’s pacing the floors in need of answers.”

“We won’t be long,” Sasha said, beginning to go through Desidera’s personal effects. She glanced at Hunter. “And we’ll try to put the door back so the other employees don’t immediately see a busted locker.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said quickly and then slipped out of the door.

Hunter moved in close behind Sasha, his presence like a warm, stone wall of silence behind her.

“You’re crowding me,” she said with an arched eyebrow, glancing at him over her shoulder.

“Just trying to pick up a scent,” he muttered and then backed off.

“Mostly pretty standard stuff,” she called out, looking at a lightweight pink sweater, an extra pair of flat shoes, jeans, a tank top, and a purse. “She had a change of clothes in here… makeup.” Sasha let out a hard breath and began going through Desidera’s purse.

Holding up her driver’s license, the photo of a stunning woman stared back at her. No wonder Sir Rodney was so taken. Tissues, lipstick, a compact… nothing was out of the ordinary. But there was a roll of smaller bills held in a rubber band-no doubt dancer’s tip money. The contents of her wallet were also fairly standard: credit cards, several twenty-dollar bills. Then a small carnival strip photo fell into her hands. It had been held between two credit cards and showed two smiling girlfriends laughing and hugging each other. One redhead, one blond.

“This must be Penelope,” Sasha said, handing the photo strip to Hunter.

He took it, glanced at it, and handed it back to Sasha. “Looks fairly recent, judging from the same hairstyle in the driver’s license.”

Sasha nodded. “Good call.” But then, in a small slit inside the well-worn leather, her fingers hit pay dirt. “A Blood Oasis member card?” She handed off the card to Hunter, who raised a brow as he accepted it. “What’s she doing with one of these?”

“My question exactly. Vampires do not hand these out on the street. This is a donor card, not a member card.” Hunter handed Sasha back the card, which she stashed in her jeans’ pocket.

“Looks like we’re going to have to stop by the Blood Oasis,” she said, staring at him.

“Can’t wait,” Hunter muttered sarcastically.

A sudden presence made them both turn quickly. Upper and lower canines had ripped through Hunter’s gums. Sir Rodney’s bodyguard held up both hands in front of his chest, which eased the pair of wolves.

“Milord has been called back to Sidhe, and he would like a word with you in Ethan’s office before he leaves.” The bodyguard glanced at Sasha’s shoulder holster and weapon and then at Hunter’s slowly retracting canines. “Tensions are high… but know that our monarch is also extremely upset. To see a display of aggression-”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Sasha said as Hunter rolled his shoulders. “We’re just a little jumpy after what we’ve seen in the basement.”

The guard glanced at the broken locker door and then turned without comment. “This way, please.”

The threesome headed down the backroom corridors, meeting Ethan along the way.

“I’ve tried to call Penelope,” Ethan said, catching up to their pace, “but she didn’t answer. I know it sounds silly, but if you’re going to ask her questions tonight, will you call me? I wanted her to hear it all from me first, but I have to close down the bar and Mike left his shift early.” Ethan let out an exasperated breath. “Having employees is sometimes like having children. My bartender is known for taking off before his shift ends, and he did it again. I need to deal with him, and I don’t want anyone else closing for me tonight, given the circumstances.”

“We’ll call you, for sure,” Sasha said. “But you make sure you have someone you can trust stay in here with you while you close. Promise me that.”

Ethan nodded as the king’s best man turned and also nodded. “Milord has sent for Fae archers to reinforce me. I will be fine. Just check on Penelope… and let her know I wasn’t being callous to have strangers contact her before I’d had a chance. Make her know-”