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“The police received a disturbance call at ten this morning from the neighbors, and went to the apartment to check it out.” Ella nodded as Feehan joined her in the unmarked SBLE car and filled her in on the details. “After trying the polite knock-knock route, and failure to locate the building super, they broke down the door and found the victim lying on her couch. Luckily, one of the more sensitive cops noticed the bad psychic atmosphere and also called us.”

“She was already dead?”

“Yeah. Music loud enough to shake the whole building, clothes everywhere, and bottles of alcohol littering the carpet.”

Ella nodded, her throat tight as they pulled up outside the new high-rise apartment block just off one of the entrances to the Bay Bridge. It must have been a quiet day in the city because the police and a paramedic crew were already there. Lights flashing, crime scene tape fluttering in the breeze and several personnel filling the sidewalk. Feehan opened his window and they were waved through to park beside the waiting ambulance. She stared up at the glass building. Something from Otherworld had been near or in the space; she could sense the dark magic in her bones.

Feehan bumped into her and she jumped. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” she managed. “Are we going up?”

“Yes, I’ve already cleared it with the necessary authorities.”

She rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor in silence while Feehan yakked into his cell phone. She didn’t like elevators and she didn’t like the vibe she was getting at all. There was a sense of immense psychic power laced with a triumphant glee that made her want to puke. Whatever had murdered the woman wasn’t quite human. She wasn’t surprised that someone had picked up on it and called for help. Despite the government officially failing to recognize the SBLE, most first responders were more than willing to pass the difficult cases over to them.

As usual, the crime scene was busy. Ella stood back and viewed the setting as objectively as she could. The victim was sprawled naked on the couch, arms thrown out, her expression fixed in a grimace that could have been either horror or extreme pleasure. Or both.

One of the cops started talking to Feehan. Apparently, there were no obvious wounds on the body apart from a little blood coming from the woman’s ears, nose and mouth. She’d been drinking, and there were no signs of an intruder.

The older female cop lowered her voice. “I’m the one who called you guys.” She shivered. “I just got a real bad feeling about this. I’ve learned to listen to my gut.”

Feehan nodded. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”

Ella guessed the victim was in her mid-twenties, and tried to think if she recognized her. There weren’t that many empaths in the Bay Area, but the face wasn’t familiar. She took a hesitant step forward, and shuddered as the residue of the killer’s pleasure swept over her.

Feehan appeared beside her again. “We need you to read her before it’s too late. I’m going to get them to clear out and give you some space, okay?”

She nodded. She hated this part of her job. Her kind spent a huge amount of time and energy building shields to protect themselves from the psychic shit they accumulated. Probing another empath’s mind, even that of a dead empath, was like trying to pry open a spoiled clam and usually gave her the empath equivalent of food poisoning.

When the noise died down, she picked her way through the debris and knelt beside the brown leather couch. She took her time studying the dead woman’s face, carefully opening her senses to anything that still hung around polluting the atmosphere. The victim definitely was an empath. Shit . Whatever had killed her had a very distinctive signature, which was both good and bad. It made the murderer easier to track, but indicated a level of power that didn’t care about shielding itself. Ella took hold of the victim’s cold hand and centered herself on the rapidly disappearing internal psychic signature. Whoever this female was, she hadn’t bothered keeping her shields up to the high standards demanded by the SBLE. Despite feeling like she was crawling through barbed wire, Ella was able to get into her mind rather easily.

Rather too easily. There was nothing there, nothing but a confused mass of fear and joy, and—what was that—relief? Was that the only overriding emotion left? And did that mean the empath had been glad to die by the end?

Shaking her head, she sat back on her heels and tried again. She concentrated harder this time, opening herself wider, but now all she sensed were her own signals bouncing back at her like radar.

“Did you get anything?” Feehan crouched down beside her.

Ella released the dead woman’s hand and turned to stare at her perspiring boss. “Not really.”

His shoulders slumped. “No last image of the killer, no sense that the victim could identify the murderer?”

“It’s way worse than that. It’s as though all her memories and abilities were sucked out of her head.”

Feehan went still. “Seriously?”

Ella rose and glanced at the police officers filling the doorway. “Can we talk about it back at the office? I don’t want these guys hearing anything they shouldn’t. They already think I’m one of those nutty TV psychics who makes shit up, and they barely tolerate me being here.”

“Sure. As long as there’s nothing else you need to see.”

She kept moving. “They’ll send everything over to us, right? We can gather the team together and talk about it then.”

Didn’t he know that she needed to get out of there? Sometimes she wondered who thought it a good idea to have empaths answering to government employees who didn’t understand the immense pressure such encounters put on their staff. When it came down to it, empaths scared the crap out of humans. She saw it every time Feehan looked at her.

Without another word, she pushed through the group of cops and headed for the elevators. The thought of being trapped with Feehan or any other normal human even for two minutes in a tin box made her veer toward the emergency stairs.

“I’ll see you by the car,” she shouted, opening the heavy fire door and then starting down the brightly lit but barren concrete staircase. Her flip-flops smacked against the steps and echoed in the stairwell. About halfway down, she came to a stop. The murderer had used the stairs. She could smell him, and his triumph. So he hadn’t magically shifted in or out of the apartment, which meant it was unlikely he was Fae.

She deliberately opened her senses to his distinctive signature, and shuddered as she met his meticulously constructed mental barriers. He wanted her to see his pleasure at the murder, but nothing more. And the killer was male. She was now sure of that. After checking her own mental shields, she continued down the stairs and out through the lobby into the parking lot.

Feehan waited for her by the car, his expression anxious. The roar of traffic from the Bay Bridge above almost drowned out the police sirens, but not quite. Dirt shimmered and danced on the metal roofs of the vehicles making everything seem out of focus.

“I think the murderer is an Otherworld male and he entered and exited the building using the stairs,” she said quietly. “I sensed him there.” She scanned the parking lot. “So it’s possible he either drove himself here, or used an Otherworld portal.”

Feehan nodded. “I’ll go tell the police to check out the vehicles in the parking lot, and that we’re pretty sure we’re looking for a male killer.” He hesitated. “They’re not convinced it was a murder, by the way.”

“Um, what woman commits suicide naked ? When I go, I’m wearing my best fancy underwear and full makeup.”

Feehan stuttered something incoherent.

“They just don’t want to be bothered because they hate the paperwork as much as we do.” Ella fished out her cell phone. “I’ll check the Otherworld app for current portal locations.”

Like most things that belonged to that screwed up place, the entrance and exits to Otherworld moved around seemingly on a whim. It had taken years to persuade the Otherworld government to share the latest locations with their human counterparts, and even longer for the Fae nerds to come up with an application that worked with human technology.

She clicked on the app and waited for her phone to recognize where she was. Two red circles flashed on the map, one close to the Bay Bridge and the other by the ballpark at the end of Embarcadero. If the murderer had come from Otherworld, he’d had an easy journey back. And if he was a baseball fan and had chosen the portal farther away, the crowds streaming out of the park would have provided a perfect screen for his murderous activities.

Feehan had left the engine running, so she got in the air-conditioned car and briefly closed her eyes. She’d kill for a soda or something smothered in chocolate. Lately, it seemed to take longer and longer for her to recover from an encounter with Otherworld. But she was about to turn twenty-seven, and everyone knew that was about the limit of an empath’s ability to remain sane and do their job properly. It was also probably why Feehan was handling her with kid gloves.

A rush of movement outside the car caught her attention, and she watched as the body was brought out and loaded into the ambulance. They’d eventually take it to the morgue under the SBLE offices, and get as much information as possible to help the team detect the killer. Ella tried to think about the woman and whether she’d seen her before, but she couldn’t recall a single memory. Perhaps her mind was so full of psychic shit that her real memories were being erased… She opened her eyes. That was not going to happen. She was going to get through this without going nuts or following stupid government procedure.

“You ready to head back, Ella?”

“Sure, boss.”

Feehan got into the car beside her. He waited for the ambulance to pull out ahead of them, and then followed along behind, acknowledging the offhand waves of the police officers still gathered around the entrance to the building. She didn’t bother. If Feehan thought the way to get promoted was through developing a good relationship with the San Francisco police department, he’d soon learn the error of his ways.

Feehan glanced at her again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just thirsty.” She opened her eyes wide at him. “What’s up? Are you worried I’m losing it?”

To his credit he didn’t back down. “You are almost twenty-seven. I understand that can be a difficult time for an empath.” He clicked on his turn signal, turned under the Bay Bridge and they were swallowed in the roaring tunnel-like darkness. “Have you received your notification letter from Otherworld yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Well, it is one solution to your…issues.”

“My issues ?” She glared at him. “A stupid one. I think I’d rather go nuts.”

“I doubt that.”

“And what would you know about it, boss?”

They emerged from under the bridge into glaring sun and the usual stationary traffic. “Quite a lot, actually,” Feehan replied. “My mom was an empath. She died in a home for the mentally unstable at thirty.”

Ella swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been tough for you.”

“Tougher for her. She died when I was four.” He waited for the secure gate to rise at the SBLE underground parking lot. “It was just before the two governments instigated the new mating policies to keep empaths alive and functioning.” He parked and turned off the engine. “So you can see why I’m particularly keen for you to survive. Your work for the SBLE is exceptional, and as a department, we would hate to lose your gifts.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel special or something?” She took off her seatbelt and scrambled out of the car. “You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to.” Gee, now she sounded like a petulant five-year-old. Maybe she should stamp her foot and pout.

Feehan followed suit and stood staring at her. “That’s true, but as your superior, I can only offer you the benefit of my advice.”

“Well, thanks, I sure appreciate your input.” She pushed open the door into the main building and enjoyed the rush of cold air. “Now, shall we focus on catching this killer?”

* * *

An hour later, fortified by three jelly donuts and two cans of lemonade, Ella sat in the largest of the three conference rooms awaiting her colleagues. She’d taken off her jacket and was busy trying to scrape jelly off her purple kitty T-shirt.

“Hey, Ella.” Liz Goddard took the seat next to her and wrinkled her nose. “What the hell is that on your shirt, blood?”

“Nope, just the internal gushings of a donut. I somehow missed my mouth.”

Liz shuddered and smoothed out the perfect pleats in her off-white pantsuit. She always looked immaculate. Ella had suffered severe clothes-envy until she’d realized that Liz was part Fae and able to create her own glamor.

“How’s Doug?” Ella asked.

“He’s good,” Liz said, her smile brightening. “He’s got a new contract with the government to work on the Fae/Human database, so he’s the happiest nerd on the planet.”

“Cool. So you’ll be able to stay in the city, then?”

“Yeah, which is awesome.” She nudged Ella in the ribs. “I need to return the favor and introduce you to some hot dude.”

“I don’t want a hot dude. I want a nerd like Doug.”

“No, you don’t. He’d drive you batshit.” Liz grinned. “He drives me batshit, but somehow that’s okay.”

“That’s because you are a better, kinder person than I will ever be.”

“No, it’s because when he gets really annoying, I can cast a spell and shut him up.”

“I wish I could do that.”

Liz gave her a skeptical look. “You can wipe their minds. That’s way cooler.”

Her smile died. “Not really. Who wants to be the girl no one ever remembers?”

“Ella, are you okay?” Liz reached out and touched her arm.

As Ella opened her mouth to inquire why everyone kept asking her that, Feehan came into the room with the two other guys who made up the SBLE special response team. Ella nodded at Rich and Andrew, and then turned her attention to her boss, who looked almost as tired as she did.

He walked over to the board and stuck up a picture of the apartment building, a shot of the couch with the victim on it, and an enlarged copy of the woman’s driving license.

“Okay, you have all the basics here. We have a deceased twenty-seven-year-old female. She was a registered empath named Christa Louise Morehouse. Last known address, according to her driver’s license, Humboldt State University.”

The name was vaguely familiar even if the face wasn’t.

“Then what was she doing in the city?” Liz asked.

“That is unknown at present.”

“Do the police think she was living with someone?”

“Apparently not. The apartment was leased in her name.”

Liz got to her feet and started pacing. As she walked, a thin stream of silver like a spider’s web followed along behind her. The Fae-Web already contained a mesh of words and images connected to the case. Being part Fae, Liz had the ability to perceive problems in different dimensions and was adept at seeing connections that would evade most human investigators.

“What else do we have?” Liz demanded.

“The police are following up with Humboldt State and interviewing her neighbors, so we’ll get that information within the next day or two,” Feehan said. “I’m surprised you don’t remember her, Ella. She was in your class at the Otherworld Academy.”

“She was? I vaguely remember the name, but nothing else.”

Feehan nodded. “Perhaps it will come back to you.”

“I hope so.”

“Anything else, Mr. Feehan?” Liz asked.

“Nothing except Ella’s take on the victim at the scene.” Feehan looked at her. “Do you want to share?”

Ella put her elbows on the table. “It was weird. Most empaths have really strong shields, but hers were paper-thin. I had hardly any problem getting into her head, and when I did, there was almost nothing there.”

“What do you mean?” Liz swung around, her expression intent.

“It was as if whatever killed her had ripped out every memory she possessed, both her psychic memories and her personal ones.” She shivered. “There was nothing left, apart from a few echoes of her last thoughts.”

“And what were those?” Feehan asked.

“Mainly relief.”

“The victim was twenty-seven, right?”

Feehan shared a glance with Liz, and Ella stiffened. “So?”

Feehan hesitated. “Is it possible that she did this to herself to avoid going mad?”

Everyone turned to stare at Ella. “Sucked out her own brain? I don’t think that’s possible.”

“The police did say there was no sign of a struggle,” Liz murmured as her silver web shimmered with possibilities, none of which Ella liked.

“No. Someone must have done it for her.”

“Could she have asked someone?”

“Another empath?” Ella looked down at the table. “I don’t think so. We retain all the shit we take in. Taking on another empath’s entire psychic burden would probably kill the recipient as well.”

“And there was only one victim.”

“And it felt like Otherworld,” Ella insisted. “I sensed dark magic.”

“Fae or shapeshifter or Other?” Feehan asked. “Not Fae or shifter. Definitely Other.”

Liz grinned. “Well at least that excludes all of my Fae kin, and Rich and Andrew’s shapeshifter families. But then again, ‘Other’ is fricking scary.” She switched her attention back to Feehan. “Didn’t you say there was another case like this recently?”

“Not to me, he didn’t,” Ella said sweetly to Liz.

Feehan avoided Ella’s gaze. “I found it when I put the new case details into the database earlier. It flagged another file, and I pulled it.” He passed around some paperwork. “I’ve also emailed you the files, so check them out tonight.”

Ella read quickly and frowned. “How come no one at SFPD notified us about this one?”

Feehan shrugged. “Different area of the city, different team. They decided this victim committed suicide.”

“It does sound similar,” Liz added, as her silver web lit up again and seemed to grow to twice its size. “I wonder whether our killer has developed a habit of doing this? I’ll check our international database as well.”

“Oh great,” Ella groaned. “A potential Otherworld serial killer.”

Feehan took the chair next to Ella, his expression sympathetic, and she leaned as far away from him as she could. “Do you feel up to handling this, Ella, or would you like me to draft another empath in? Sam needs more experience.”

“Especially if I lose it in the next three months. I don’t think he’s ready to handle this alone yet. He’s just out of college and he’s only twenty-one.”

“Well, maybe he could act as your assistant.”

“Sure, whatever you want. We all have to learn.”

It was a pity Sam Nadal already thought he knew everything. But every empath was cocky when they graduated from the Otherworld college system. It took a few months of working in the field to realize book learning taught you nothing.

Feehan rubbed his hands together. “Great! I’ll tell him to talk to you tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait.” Ella smiled and Liz stifled a snort.

“Now, do we have anything else to discuss, or can we call it a day?”