Heart's Blood (MxM)

Chapter 1

Warning: This story contains strong language and light violence.

I always thought it was funny when the lead character in a detective story is the one who finds the body. I mean, what are the chances, right?

At least, that's what I thought until today, when I literally stumbled on a body myself.

My morning was going so well, too.

I'd risen early, and since I had no consultations and it was a beautiful day, I'd decided to treat myself to an extra-large latte and go for a run.

It felt like a good start to a good day, and I wasn't even bothered when Kevin the Asshole Barista (who apparently still hasn't forgiven me for 'breaking up' with him after one date) wrote "Julie" instead of "Julian" on the side of my cup.

I'd driven my vintage VW Beetle—restored to a gleaming dark blue—to my favorite running trail, finished my coffee, and set out along the winding path.

It weaves a twenty-mile loop along the river and through the woods at the edge of town, though I only run a small stretch at a time. Today I chose one of my favorites, where the paved trail snakes alongside the water through dense aspen, birch, and willow. It's like something from a fairy tale—rich with the charm of nature that draws people to this town.

Spring Lakes lies between the arms of a mountain range. It's small, isolated, quirky and eccentric, and more liberal than most places this far north in California.

It's also a haven for people like me: people with unusual gifts. Nobody blinks twice when you tell them you're psychic around here, and the police are among my most loyal customers.

Which is why they take me seriously when I report a dead body as a murder and tell them that the killer was... unusual, to say the least.

It was a little after eight o'clock, morning sunlight lancing through the green canopy of leaves, and I'd just passed the 5K mark on my running app when that latte caught up with me.

I know, I know—it's bad manners—but I seriously needed to pee, and there was no one else around. So, I went behind some bushes, pulled down my running pants, and found a dead girl.

At least I saw her before I peed on her. That would have been hard to explain.

Chief Coleridge is giving me side-eye as it is; as if she also thinks it's unrealistic for people whose business involves dead bodies to go around finding them by accident.

Now, she beckons me over to where she's standing near the corpse with the coroner and the crime-scene photographer. Mercifully, they've covered it by this point, so I can approach without having to see it again.

Once was quite enough, thanks.

"Tell me one more time, Hart," Coleridge says. "How did you find the body? It was very well concealed."

I can tell from the set of her mouth that she's only making me say it again because she thinks it's funny, and the other two haven't heard it yet.

At least she has a sense of humor.

Her predecessor was a jerk who refused to work with me because of what he called my 'smart-ass attitude.' So far, Coleridge and I are getting along, and I'd like to keep it that way, so instead of rolling my eyes, I reign in my sarcasm and tell it one more time.

"I was running and I needed to, um...relieve myself," I say. "So I went behind the bushes here because—as you say—it's a very well-concealed spot, and that's when...I found her." I swallow, a hint of my earlier nausea resurfacing with the memory of what I'd seen. "Then I called you. Not exactly the relaxing morning I'd had planned."