Read Scorched Fury: A SkinWalker Novel #5 (DarkWorld: SkinWalker) for Free Online

sure what I can give you. Tara didn't leave much behind."
    Mel straightened, her face brightening. "I do have an idea but I'm thinking you may not like it."
    "Hit me with it. I can take it."
    I think.
    Mel cleared her throat. "There's a bathroom somewhere here, right?" I nodded, suspecting where she was going with this. "So, point me to the shower. I need the drain."
    I made a face. "Tara's going to just love this."
    Mel shrugged. "You want to find her?"
    "Fine. Let's just keep this between us."
    "Let's hope that Tara forgot to clean the drains."
    I got to my feet and led Mel down the hall. The building was a large rectangle, the shop making up just a quarter of the space. A central hall led from the store to the back with the kitchen, the bathroom and the little back room on the left, and two small bedrooms on the right.
    The bathroom didn't exactly sparkle but it was clean. Lily and I had only made use of the toilet, having never slept here overnight. Though Lily may have been tempted, I knew she returned to the shelter every evening because of Chloe.
    Though Storm was gone, the shelter remained open, run by the Mind Mage Chloe Murdoch who had helped Storm with the kids. She was part mind-melded, part therapist and was well-loved by the kids. She'd taken over the job with a determination that I'd attributed to a deep-seated fury at Storm's betrayal. And Lily had stayed, helping Chloe out in addition to tagging along with me. Her role as sidekick was apparently permanent.
    Mel strode to the tub, her heels tapping loudly on the ceramic tiles, and shoved aside the white curtain. I smiled at the gigantic claw-footed tab. Clearly Fae needed their soaking time.
    As Mel leaned over I dangled a latex glove in front of her face. She reached for it, slipping it on with a slap and a slight shake of her head as if berating herself for not foreseeing the need. Then she was poking her finger into the drain, wiggling it around and around. I was surprised when she came away with four strands of long black hair.
    "That's less than I would have expected," said Mel, frowning.
    "That more than what I would have expected," I replied, more than surprised. "Trust me, Tara is a clean freak. This is unexpected."
    Mel grunted as she got to her feet. "Let's hope the hair belongs to Tara or her mother."
    "It's Tara's," I said. "Gracie has much shorter hair."
    Mel gave a satisfied nod, then rolled the hair into a tiny ball, holding it in her gloved palm as she headed back to the kitchen. She removed the gloves, being careful to keep the hair within the plastic so as not to touch it until she was prepared.
    I knew from Mel that sometimes the link to people's minds can render a tracker unconscious. Who knew what an unprotected link to a Fae could do? She placed the glove on the kitchen table. We both sat and I prepared to watch Mel do her tracking thing.
    She reached out and removed a single strand from the coil with her bare fingers. I watched as she placed the strand into the palm of her hand and closed her eyes. Mel was an astral projector, but she was also one of the most powerful teleporters in existence.
    We were lucky to have her on our side.
    She closed her eyes and inhaled, deep and slow. In and out, then in again. She held the second breath longer and I watched closely as her eyes shifted beneath her closed lids, the movement reminding me of Logan.
    I pushed him from my mind and concentrated.
    The room remained silent except for Mel's slow inhalations. She remained so entirely focused on her tracking that it brought goosebumps to my skin.
    At last, what felt like hours later, her eyelids fluttered open. I recognized disappointment.
    "What happened? Did it work?" I asked, leaning forward, hoping she'd relieve me of the suspicion that her search had failed.
    But Mel shook her head. "No. Her trail feels blocked somehow. The hair is biological and with most species it works even though they are technically dead epithelials, but for Tara I