“We have to go back in there.” His cobalt eyes raked over me and then to the closed door. “Ready?” he asked.
I nodded, unable to form any words. He pushed open the door and the grim scene greeted me again: the dark spatters climbing like gnarled fingers up the walls, the cold destruction in the room. I felt my heart do a choking double thump as I scanned the scene.
“This is bad, Alex.”
Alex picked his way around the broken furniture, careful not to step into the black puddles soaked into the carpet. He circled the bed, peered into the half-open closet.
“There are no bodies. Do you think maybe the Hendersons got away? From the look of the—the blood, they would have been pretty severely injured.”
“No. No, they didn’t get away.” I gulped, toeing the discarded duvet, clamping my jaws shut against the wave of nausea that flashed when my fears were confirmed. There was more blood, the outline of broken bodies, singed into the carpet. “They were murdered.”
Alex put a gentle hand on my forearm and I let him lead me downstairs and out the front door. He closed the Hendersons’ door firmly behind us and turned me to face him when we were out on the front stoop.
“I’m sorry about your friends, Lawson.” He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingertips gently brushing my cheek as he did so. “Are you okay?”
I sucked in a shaky breath and pinched my eyes shut, hoping to burn the image of the Hendersons’ destroyed room out of my mind. “I’m worried, Alex. This proves it. There’s something going on in the Underworld.”
The muscle in Alex’s jaw twitched, but his eyes stayed soft, stayed focused on mine. “It doesn’t prove anything. It could have been a random attack, for all we know.”
“They were”—I scanned the sidewalks, dropping my voice—“demons. That would be a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”
Alex nodded, though he didn’t look convinced.
I shook my head, rubbing at the throb that had started near my temples. “And they were dragons. It’s not easy to take down a dragon. Who—what—ever did this knows what he’s doing. And he’s strong.”
“What are you going to do?”
I felt my mouth drop open. “What am I going to do? You’re the police. You’re a homicide detective!”
“And you work for the one entity in the entire world equipped to deal with demons.”
I stared Alex down, until he blew out a sigh.
“What am I supposed to do? Call a squad in for a disappearing dragon death?”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “You could do worse.”
“Call Dixon. Let him handle this. After what you’ve been through this past year, don’t you think it’s time to take it easy?”
Alex tried to squeeze my shoulder in what I supposed was an attempt to be appeasing and compassionate, but I dodged him, narrowing my eyes.
“I almost got blown up by a psychotic fallen angel,” I reminded.
“You almost got blown up in general.”
“Which makes looking into a demon murder look like a cakewalk.” I forced a Cheshire grin. “So we’re on the case?”
“Let Dixon handle it,” Alex repeated.
I thought of the dismissive way Dixon promised to “look into” the incident and then looked at Alex as he beelined down the front walk, stuffing his gun back into his holster. He paused at the sidewalk and looked over his shoulder. “Coming?”
I followed Alex down to his car, where he fished out a first aid box from under the seat. He carefully, tenderly picked the last bits of glass out of my palms, then swabbed the whole thing with Mercurochrome.
I squirmed. “That stings!”
“Hold still.”
He fished out a roll of gauze from the kit.
“I shouldn’t be letting you do this,” I said finally.
“Because I’m not a doctor?”
“Because you’re an idiot. Something is going on. It could be a band of—of Mexican drug lords or a fallen angel coming to seek her ultimate revenge or, you know, crackheads. And you didn’t do a thing about it.” My eyes started to sting and I sniffled furiously, willing myself not to cry. “You’re going to feel so bad if they come back and gut me.”
The muscle in Alex’s jaw twitched and I saw he was fighting a smile. “You’re just waiting for someone to get gutted, aren’t you?”
I blew out a sigh. “Don’t you have a stakeout to go on?”
“I’m not leaving just yet. And I’m concerned, Lawson, I am. But like I said, this”—and here he jutted his chin toward the Hendersons’ very plain, very non-Underworld-looking house—“is really not police department jurisdiction.” His eyes were soft, what I imagined would be bedroomy and rather sexy—were I not half covered in gauze and dried blood and just about to pee.