Rebel Vampire: An Urban Fantasy Unicorn Shifter Adventure (Rebel of the Otherworld Book 2) by Brogan Thomas

Author:Brogan Thomas [Thomas, Brogan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brogan Thomas Books
Published: 2023-08-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Driving, I think about everything but the cause of the elephant on my chest. My insides feel like they are in a blender and on a constant spin. It went okay, and the victims were healed, all on their way home to their families.

As I pull up to a set of traffic lights, something nags at me. Marcus, the frying pan witch, pops into my head. I pull up the memory of rifling through his belongings, and I remember catching a brief glimpse of his identification. His address is… I nod. I narrow my eyes on the house numbers. Yeah, that’s it. It should be up here on the right.

Should I? My fingers drum on the steering wheel.

I need to keep busy.

Dexter is still sleeping, and the builders are at the farmhouse working. Drilling. I rub my collarbone. I don’t have it in me to be sociable or pleasant and nice. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Yeah, I’m more likely to smash the cup over some poor sod’s head.

I feel so bloody angry. I’m not safe.

The lights change, and as I drive down the road, I make a quick decision and pull over into a handy parking spot. I might as well have a nosy while I’m nearby. What will be the harm? It’s not like I’m looking to pick a fight. Well, not much of one anyway.

And I did say my standard modus operandi is to rattle a few cages and make the baddies angry. Get them to stick their head above the parapet again as they try to kill me. My lips twitch. The thought almost makes me smile.

I grab a box of micro-cameras from the handy cubby between the Defender’s front seats. Before I get out, I set the micro-cameras up, and with a press of a button, I attach the feeds from the dozens of tiny cameras to the app on the phone. I make sure to leave a handful watching the street and the dead pan witch’s door.

Marcus lives in a modern apartment block. Three flats to each red brick building, and as his place is on the ground floor, it has its own entrance. A waist-height brick wall encloses a small garden. I prowl through the gate and down the path that snakes between scraggly patches of frozen lawn. As I get to the entrance, I grab some latex gloves, shove them on and then, with an unlock spell, open the blue front door.

They have replaced the building ward with a crime scene one that should—I take a deep breath—let me in. The ward crackles harmlessly against my skin, and with a relieved sigh, I slip inside. Being in the law enforcement bracket for this kind of thing is handy. Being the executioner gives me clearance for almost everything.

I turn on the lights. His flat is small, clean, and organised. A black leather sofa with red cushions dominates the front room. It has a bachelor pad aesthetic. Marcus wasn’t hurting for cash.

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