Clean Sweep by Ilona Andrews Page B

were killed and partially eaten, Ryan. There is no official word on the condition of John Rook's body; however, sources close to the investigation tell us that he suffered the same fate as his livestock."
    "Are you saying someone fed on his body?"
    Amy looked like she was about to vomit. "It appears so, Ryan. He was dismembered postmortem and part of him and the cows has been... cooked."
    I almost gagged.
    "Nobody had seen John Rook for several days; he could've been dead for quite a while. We'll have to wait for the coroner's official..."
    Below the footage a news update flashed: local farmer found dead, his livestock mutilated.
    It had to be the dahaka. How horrible. It killed the farmer, cooked him, and fed him to its dogs. I had to stop it.
    Sean pulled out his phone and typed in it. "It's less than ten miles north of here."
    "What are you thinking?"
    "Let's say I'm the dahaka. I have a pack of stalkers on my hands and I have to feed them, but I don't want to be found. Stalkers would likely require a lot of meat. They're large and carnivorous. So I find this farm with a herd of cattle. It's remote enough for me to hide for days. I kill the farmer, start slaughtering his cows, and use the stalkers to patrol the boundaries of my territory and make sure nobody is coming. Except if the stalkers are like dogs, then they'll get bored and start to roam farther and farther until they find something interesting."
    "Like our subdivision."
    "Exactly."
    On the screen a shot of the butchered herd flashed again. It made me sick to my stomach. "Forty-two cows. That's a huge amount of meat."
    "I found a leaked photo." Sean showed me his phone. On it a bloody carcass of a cow lay on the grass. Its head, back, and legs were intact, but its stomach was missing, and the entire front of the body was a mess of shredded red tissue.
    "They went for the soft parts. Wasteful. This tells me that either he doesn't have great control of them or he doesn't care."
    "Either way, he has to find an alternative food supply." I knew exactly where that supply was. Either he would hit more farms or he would come south, toward us.
    Toward a subdivision filled with families.
    I took a deep breath and plastered on a smile. We had to go out and chat with Margaret before she decided to come in and investigate what was taking us so long.
    *** *** ***
    I sat at the kitchen table. The werewolf sat across from me. Two perfectly round wooden spheres lay on the table, each about the size of a small kiwi. A complex pattern of dark, crisscrossing spirals wove through the wood. We'd fished them out of the pot once the flesh had fallen off the stalkers' bones. The inn grounds had swallowed both skeletons and the disgusting broth and pots with them. I wouldn't be reusing them.
    The trackers waited on the surface of the table, quiet and inert. No magic emissions. No electromagnetic signals. Just two harmless-looking chunks of wood. But when I reached for them with my magic, I felt a spark. It curled deep inside them, vibrant and alive, waiting to be released so it could blossom.
    Around us the inn was quiet. Caldenia had gone to bed, having delicately devoured enough meat to satiate three grown men. Outside the windows, a sunset burned down, one of those glorious Texas sunsets when the color grew thick and vivid and long stripes of clouds glowed orange on a nearly purple sky. Beast lay by my feet, gnawing on a bone Sean had given her. Through the day she had upgraded his status from kill on sight to suspicious to the man with delicious treats who can't be trusted . She would take a bone from him, but petting was still out of the question.
    Sean regarded the spheres with calm interest. "Can you activate them?"
    "Yes."
    "Did the trackers turn themselves off because the stalkers died?"
    "I don't think so. From the scans, they look simple: turn on, turn off."
    "So the dahaka deliberately turned them off."
    "Probably."
    Sean leaned back. "If I were him, stuck in an unfamiliar