Unbound

“How old was he?” I demanded, attempting to refocus Knox’s attention.

“Less than two centuries.”

“How long has he been in my domain?”

“About a decade. Maybe a little more.”

“Was he involved in anything recently that I should be aware of? Changes in allegiance? Was he a part of a family?”

Knox pushed away from the wall and stood, shoving one hand through his sandy blond hair. “I–I’m not sure.”

“Concentrate,” I murmured, looking over Bryce for any identifying marks. Some families were known for branding their members. We couldn’t be tattooed because we always healed, but we could retain some scars if we were low on blood and were unable to heal properly. The process was generally painful and ugly, but then most families were painful, ugly affairs. I didn’t find anything on Bryce, but I wasn’t surprised. Most of his body was either singed or blackened from its exposure to the sun.

“He’s a part of the Ravana family, I believe. He came to Savannah alone and immediately got sucked into Justin’s clan,” Knox replied. His voice grew steadier the longer he spoke, as if he were finally detaching himself from the gruesome death of the nightwalker that lay before him. Nightwalker flocks were like high school cliques, each with its own set of rules and bizarre tastes.

A low, steady hiss escaped me as I turned this new bit of information over in my brain. I had been hoping that he wasn’t a member of one of few families that existed within my domain, but of them all, Justin Ravana’s clan was the most undesirable. Cruel and vicious, Justin was one of the oldest within my territory and had been practically raised by the Coven. I hadn’t thought much of his petition to live in my domain decades ago, but I had regretted agreeing ever since. Justin specialized in brutality, torture, and control. No one that entered into his family ever escaped it alive.

“When Bryce was away from his family, he tended to associate mostly with fledglings,” Knox continued. “During the past few years, I’ve seen him mainly with this small group of nightwalkers, mostly females, all less than a century old.”

“Not exactly the best list of suspects you’ve got for me.” I stood, pulling away from my examination of the corpse. “A group of fledglings? It’s possible that it was Justin, but it’s not his style to hand off the murder to someone else who could do it during the day. He’d want to be part of it. Justin would have taken the time to handle it personally over a series of weeks if possible.”

“What? You’ve never seen a fledgling kill another nightwalker?” Knox scoffed. The comment finally caused some of the tension to roll off of his shoulders.

“I’ve seen the remains of plenty of fledgling kills, but I’ve never known of any fledgling that could accomplish the feat during the day. And I’ve never known a fledgling to kill a nightwalker in this style.”

“Really? Fledglings have a style? A preferred method of murder?” he mocked.

“Don’t we all?” I batted my eyes at him.

“We all know your preferred method, Fire Starter,” Knox said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. He leaned against the cooler, careful to keep his eyes on me and not on the corpse. “What about fledglings?”

“I guess I have something in common with them. Fire is their preferred method. It’s fast, effective, and relatively easy. Of course, I’ve seen just as many fledglings go up in flames with their intended victim because they weren’t careful.”

“So you’re saying one of the fledglings that knew Bryce didn’t kill him,” he suggested, earning him a grin.

“I didn’t say that. It’s possible, but unlikely, particularly if he was killed during the day.” I wasn’t willing to say out loud who I thought had killed Bryce—we were both on edge enough.

An easy silence settled between us as I contemplated our dead friend and his potential attacker. Knox stood nearby, ready to offer up information. He was careful to look anywhere but at the half-burned, beheaded corpse. “Did you ever do this with my maker?” Knox softly asked, fiddling with his sunglasses.

“What? Look at corpses with Valerio?” I asked, my brow furrowed at the unexpected question. “All the time. It was how we spent most of our nights.”

“Ha. Ha,” he said, rolling his eyes at my sarcasm. “I can imagine how you spent most of your nights. But you know what I mean. He said you and he investigated strange things for the Coven back when you were in Europe?”

A smile drifted across my lips before I could stop it. I had too many good memories of Valerio, but that didn’t mean I was willing to share. Some were too embarrassing or too gruesome. And others were simply too private. My time with Valerio wasn’t always filled with happy memories and I was frequently horrified by some of the things we did, but I would never trade the moments I had with Knox’s maker.