Selene’s seat at the end of the table was tall and set upon a black marble pedestal. It had once belonged to the former Blood Hunter, the title given to the head Hunter. She could have done without the title, as it reminded her too much of Blood Hunger. But it was what it was.

Of course, she didn’t care for the high chair either. The back extended two feet over her head, obstructing her vision in case of an attack from behind, which might just happen with the Garrison present. The chair was unnecessarily large and adorned with jewels around the top and sides. However, Selene had made changes, tirelessly renovating it. Hidden within the chair were short knives, daggers, and other sharp weapons that only she knew about, and she intended to keep it that way.

Looking over at Jeanette, she nodded. “Begin.”

Returning the gesture, Jeanette rose from her seat and passed copies of her report to the Garrison. “The first victim was a woman. She was attacked right outside her house while walking home from work. There was no evidence, no scent, and no magic.”

“There was nothing?” asked Penelope. Her short blonde hair was tucked behind her ears, and her blue eyes studied Jeanette, who could easily pass for her sister. Selene knew Penelope well; she was the last Touched Born to join the Garrison and the youngest—if you counted sixty-eight thousand four hundred and fifty-two as young. Still, she was powerful and posed a threat to Selene with her ability to manipulate others’ magic.

“None,” continued Jeanette. “We did a thorough check with help from the city’s Enforcers. We found nothing.”

“And the second?” asked Hetiro. His wavy hair fell to his shoulders when not tied back. His bright blue eyes seemed fixed on Selene, reflecting his intentions. Thought readers knew no bounds, but Selene was thankfully strong enough to keep him out of her mind. His gaze left her, and she felt the headache fade with each breath, though her anger grew at the invasion.

“A male,” said Eno. Selene felt herself calm down slowly. “He was middle-aged, fifty-two years old. He had been on his way to meet his sister for dinner. It appeared he had been lured deep into an alley—a dead end. So there was no reason for him to go down there.”

“His body underwent a thorough examination, but not a drop of blood was found. There did, however, appear to be signs of a struggle. Unfortunately, we found no fibers, no DNA—nothing to lead us to the killer. And once again, there was no scent.”

“How is that even possible?” asked Artesia, Hetiro’s twin sister. She twirled a finger in the air, conjuring a fiery knife. Any weapon she thought of, she could manifest. She twirled the little flaming knife and eyed Selene menacingly. Selene greeted her with a smile and activated her fire rune. Artesia’s frown deepened, and she looked away, crossing her arms and making her knife vanish in the process.

“At first, we thought it was magic,” began Blake, “but we performed a web tracer and found that no magic was involved at the time of death. We concluded that it must be a vampire using Fairy Dust.”

“The use of that is prohibited,” snarled Gabrielle.

“But not even the King enforces that law.” Selene scanned the room, watching her comrades eye each other warily and observing her cautiously as she spoke. “There’s still much we don’t know about Fairy Dust, which is why it’s not strictly enforced. It has only begun to be abused in the past few centuries, but for the most part, it has been justifiably used. Hence, the term Roamers,’ correct? All Roamers are to be questioned, not killed? When it comes to simple Binding, the most we know is that it hides scent.”

Gabrielle flipped her hair over her shoulder, leaning back in her chair with flippant disregard for Selene’s leadership. “Well, then we should get started—”

“We already have a list of all the Vampires who buy Fairy Dust,” interrupted Jeanette, sharing a satisfied smile with Selene that nearly made her laugh.

“Roamers?”

“Four,” answered Selene, standing up. “After the third murder, we put up the Dimmer. Obviously, we’ll take them down now.”“Then we should go before they leave the city.” Gabrielle stood from the other end of the table, dragging her nails along the granite surface, producing sharp, shrill noises. Pure vehemence radiated from her, turning her eyes a bright blood red. “Lead the way, Selene.”