And that's when I felt it—an odd tingling buzz around the edges of my thoughts. Someone—or something—was trying to read me. I scanned the room quickly, but the touch was gone before I could really pinpoint it.

For no good reason, I remembered Shadow's comments about the brief intrusion one of his vamps had felt the night they'd serviced Callie's party. A shiver ran across my skin, and I rubbed my arms lightly.

In a crowd this size, it was a given that there'd be psychically talented people here, whether they were human or nonhuman. There was absolutely no reason to think that that brief touch was, in any way, connected to Callie or the other murders.

But I was oddly certain that it was.

I walked on, my gaze scanning the seething crowd on the dance floor, but I'd barely taken two steps forward when my other talents kicked in, and I felt it.

The thick sense of evil.

It was here.

Here because it had followed me here. I had sensed it in the parking lot earlier. Why it was following me I had no idea and, right now, I couldn't afford to worry about it. Because the overwhelming feeling I was getting from the spirit or monster or whatever the hell it was, was excitement. This place was like a newly found candy store to a hungry kid.

Only what this evil hungered for was death. Bloody, brutal, death.

My stomach began to churn. I had to stop this thing, whatever it was. Had to at least try.

I stopped, and tried to pinpoint where the main sense of this evil lay. My gaze rested on a petite blonde dancing with a rangy, brown-haired guy. Though they weren't getting all hot and heavy, they had been. Even from where I stood I could smell sex on them, could smell him all over her.

But he wasn't the source of the darkness. That was coming from above her, from the shadows that cloaked the ceiling.

My gaze rose. There was nothing to be seen in the rafters—nothing but electrical wiring, cameras, and dusty webs, at any rate. But it was there, somewhere. Hovering. Waiting.

For what?

The woman laughed—a soft, flirtatious sound that drew my attention again. She leaned forward, giving her companion a tender kiss, then turned and walked away.

The shifting feel of evil followed her.

So did I.

I kept close, following the shimmer of her blonde hair more than her scent, which kept getting lost in die heated air.

As I walked, I kept scanning for Kellen, trying to catch sight of him. Eventually I spotted him still at the bar. I glanced once more at the blonde, noting her trajectory, then ducked through the crowd, pushing several people out of the way and ignoring the nasty comments thrown my way.

I touched Kellen's arm, and he looked over his shoulder. "Sorry it's taking so long—"

"I have to go," I interrupted sharply, checking to see where my quarry was. As I suspected, she was heading up the steps and toward the door.

"What?" Kellen said, pushing away from the bar. "Why?"

"Work. I'll explain later." I kissed him quickly then pulled away. His fingers slithered unsuccessfully down my arm as I disappeared between a small gap in the squash of bodies. I ducked through the thick crowd, using my reflexes and vampire speed to get to the doors as fast as possible.

The woman had already disappeared through them. I raced up the steps, heels clattering and sliding on the polished floor, and all but crashed through the doors after her.

"Hey, careful," the bouncer said.

I kicked off my shoes and gave him a tight grin. "Sorry. These heels are the pits on those tiles."

"Yeah, a few ladies have mentioned that. You leaving so soon?"

"Got a call from work." I shrugged, my gaze slipping past him to the windows. The woman was approaching a white Ford parked near the exit.

"That's a shame." The bouncer opened the door and offered me a card. "You'd better take one of these. It'll let you in anytime you please, on the house. Our way of making up for your shortened stay."

"Much appreciated," I said, taking the card as I slipped out the door.

The blonde had gotten into the Ford. I raced to my car, threw the card on the seat, and started the engine. When the blonde left the parking lot, I was five seconds behind her.

Luckily, it was the middle of the night, and following a white car on empty roads was easy. With one hand still on the wheel, I pressed the corn-link in my ear and said, "Hello, hello, anyone listening?"

"Liaison Benson here," a deep voice said. "What can I do for you, Riley?"

Agent Benson had to he new, because I certainly didn't recognize his voice. And I knew most of the liaisons by sound and sight, thanks to the time I'd spent in their ranks.

"I need an immediate trace on the following plate number." I drove a little closer and read it out. "Name and address of the owner would be handy."

"Hang on a sec." Keys tapped in the background while Benson whistled tunelessly. "Okay. That car belongs to one Mary Jamieson. I'm sending full details to your onboard."

I leant across and flicked on the computer. "I've got a feeling she could be the next victim of our murderer. Any chance of getting guardian help to that location?"

He made a. clicking sound. "We're at capacity tonight. I'll check with Jack, sec what we can do."

"Let me know ASAP."

"Will do. Oh, and I have a message from Salliane for you."

My eyebrows rose. "What does it say?"

"Give the car keys back, bitch."

I laughed. "Tell her if she wants them, she can come and get them."

"Will do." There was a smile in his warm voice. "I'll contact Jack for you now."

"Thanks, Benson."

"No probs."

The connection went dead, but I left my end open. Who knew, I might need to send an urgent SOS when I got to the blonde's house. And, as Jack often reminded me, I couldn't do that if the voice section of the corn-unit was shut down.

The onboard unit beeped to indicate incoming files. I opened them, then alternated between watching the road and my quarry and reading the files.

Mary Jamieson was thirty-four and lived on one of the newer housing estates currently being built over in Derrimutt, on Melbourne's western edge. She was also, according to the file, very married, and the pic we had of her husband bore little resemblance to the man she'd kissed at the club.

So, adultery was the connection between all the woman. But why would the shadow care? What did it matter to him if these women cheated on their spouses? Even if he'd been betrayed in his own life, why come back from the grave to destroy the lives of complete strangers?

Was he reliving the moment through these other men? Why would even a spirit put himself through that?

"Benson, you still there?"

There was several seconds of silence, then Benson's warm voice caressed my eardrums. "Still here."

"Would you be able to put in an acquisition order for the security tapes at the Mirror Image nightclub? I need the recordings for the main room between"—I hesitated and glanced at the clock—"eleven-thirty and twelve."

Mary and her date had obviously been there longer than that, but I just needed enough of an image to identify him. And the less tape the club had to hand over, the happier they'd be.

"That could take several hours. Private enterprises tend not to be helpful about handing over security tapes."

"Do whatever it takes. I need to know who Mary Jamieson was at that club with tonight."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks again, Benson."

He signed off a second time, and I followed Mary onto the freeway, heading past the city and into the western suburbs. She actually didn't live all that far from me, and part of me ached with the thought of going home and catching some sleep. But that wasn't an option. Not now, and probably not in the near future.