Succubus Lost (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #2) by Tiffany Allee

who rented the space from him previously.
    But it was possible he’d lied.
    The information screen from the database popped up on the computer. Twelve otherworlder-related listings that matched my search parameters of occurring within the last two years and no use of accelerant. Seven of the listings were victims of house fires. That didn’t mean they weren’t related, but it was less likely. That left me five to check. Not bad.
    The primary suspect in the first case was a woman’s husband. An amateur witch, he had a very high amount of power in only one element—fire. He would fit, but he was in jail, waiting to be tried for his wife’s murder. The case was active, since it wouldn’t be closed until the trial was officially completed.
    The next six cases were unsolved; all involved the same M.O. as Astrid’s. They were all either otherworlders or killed by an otherworlder—though most, like Astrid’s vic, could not be identified beyond that. Only two of the victims had actually been identified. One because enough material was left for a DNA analysis. A psychometrist had identified the other.
    I clicked further into the psychometrist case first. It was probably just a coincidence. I had no real reason to think that it might be Costa’s partner, but I still allowed myself a deep breath when the psychometrist was identified as a man. He worked for the Phoenix Police Department.
    The victim proved to be an otherworlder. She’d been killed only three months ago, and had been gone for nearly a month before her ashes turned up. The remains hadn’t been found in an alley like Astrid’s victim, instead they’d been discovered in a vacant lot. A vacant lot right next to a suburban police department not far from Phoenix. The woman was identified as Lorna Thompson, and she’d been a siren.
    The other body that showed as ID’d was found in Anchorage. There had been just enough DNA left to identify her as Mary Joyce. A twenty-two-year-old siren.
    I held my breath at that. Both women were sirens.
    Not succubi. Could there still be a connection? The cities matched. The date ranges weren’t exact, but they were close.
    Maybe…just, maybe.

    I printed out a few summary pages of information on all seven cases that weren’t tied to house fires and then typed in another search, this time for missing succubi women. The ticker slowly filled and I finally broke down and poured myself a cup of the old coffee. It had cooled, so after thirty seconds in the microwave, the gloop was ready to go. The thick liquid slid down my throat, seeming to coat my flesh as it passed.
    By the time I got back to my computer, I wasn’t any perkier, but it felt like a rock had settled into my stomach.
    The search was complete, and I sat down to go through the twenty-two results.

    Disheveled was a word that I never thought I’d have the opportunity to use for Valerio Costa. But disheveled was exactly how he looked when I knocked on his hotel room door at one o’clock in the morning. He hadn’t shaved before he went to bed and rough darkness formed a shadow on his face. His ruffled hair stood up in odd places, and he peered at me from behind hooded eyes.
    “Are you all right?” he asked as he swung the door open.
    I swallowed and tried to keep my eyes on his face. But I failed, and my gaze slid down his bare chest and boxer briefs to the long legs below, and then back up. I licked my lips. Why had I come here again?
    “I think that I’ve found something,” I said, not bothering to hide my interest in his physique. The man had a nice body under his clothes.
    Costa raised an eyebrow at my frank look but didn’t comment. Instead, he dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. “Okay, what is it?”
    “So the succubi have been kidnapped and changed.
    Have you given any thought to how long he had to...
    experiment to get that change right? What did he do with the ones he wasn’t able to successfully change?” Costa shrugged. “I