No Humans Involved by Kelley Armstrong

and even lovers came and went quickly. Elena was the exception—the only living female werewolf.
    It was a world of men. The Pack and its bonds were everything, and everyone else was an outsider. And this was the man I'd fallen in love with—the leader of a world in which I would always be "the other." My heart, it seemed, could be as feckless as my brain.
    "Here," he said, guiding me into a darkened playground.
    His fingers rested on my arm as he steered me, and I found myself trying not to read too much into the casual contact that tingled up my arm. Yet it did mean something. Werewolves, while very physical with one another, don't extend that attitude toward others. Clay, the most wolflike of the Pack, avoids even handshakes. Elena's politer about it, but I figured out early on that she wasn't someone I should greet with a hug.
    Jeremy doesn't avoid contact, but doesn't initiate it either. In the last year or so, though, that's changed.
    I found myself evaluating his touch. Gripping me tighter than usual? Lingering longer? I searched for a sign that something had changed—that something was about to change, proof that he'd come here to take that next step. A lot to read into a touch and, of course, I couldn't.
    The park was barely half the size of the small surrounding lots, just enough room for the developers to plop down swings, a slide and a bench and say, "Look, we gave you a playground." It was dark now, the equipment deserted.
    Jeremy motioned me to the bench. "I'd like to check that blow to your head."
    "How—? Oh, you smell the blood."
    I pointed to the spot. He brushed my hair aside, then examined it, his touch so light I barely felt it. Then he checked my pupils and asked whether I was feeling nauseous or experiencing any pain other than at the point of impact. I wasn't.
    "I'll need to keep an eye on you, to ensure it isn't a concussion, but it seems fine. Now…" He sat beside me on the bench. "What happened?" I told him.

    AS WE waited for a taxi, I pulled the jacket tighter against the bitter wind. Jeremy's jacket. He'd offered, and I'd hated taking it, but as the sun dropped so had the temperature.
    I looked up at him. "Ghosts do play pranks. I've had it happen. But these ones are breaching the physical barrier. That is different."
    "I know. But about this human folk magic business, I'm not sure what to make of it. I don't know enough about magic to give an educated opinion."
    "Well, I'm not the best informed supernatural around, but even I know that human magic doesn't work. Robert would be our best source on that."
    Jeremy stared down the street, his expression unreadable. "I don't suppose there's any need to follow up with Molly Crane, something we might discover by breaking into her house later or interrogating her further."
    I shook my head.
    "Did she give you any other contacts? Let a name slip? Another dark-magic practitioner or black-market contact we should investigate?"
    "Nothing."
    He looked almost disappointed. Then he said, with a soft sigh, "I suppose it's on to Robert, then. I'll call the airport and see when we can get a flight to San Francisco or San Jose."
    "One there for you and one to L.A. for me, I'm afraid. I need to be back on the set first thing in the morning."
    "Ah. Of course." His gaze dipped away and I was certain he did look disappointed. Then he cleared his throat. "I'll see Robert alone then, and come to L.A. tomorrow. I'll help him with the preliminary research, to be polite, but I'll get away as soon as I can."

Part II
    This was always the hardest part. Not only was it delicate work, but the smell was enough to unsettle even the strongest stomach. It didn't bother her as much as it did the others, and it wasn't so much the smell itself as the thought of what was burning.
    They'd been careful not to use too much gasoline on the boy, but the flames had still licked the artifacts high above the concrete floor An interesting experiment, but not one they were likely to