by Ian Jarvis
‘I’ll guard the exit,’ proposed Watson.
‘No need. We won’t be long and I’m sure you’re strong enough for this.’
‘Strong enough to look at a dead girl?’
Quist opened the desk register at the last page. ‘Lisa’s in number eleven; it’ll be through there.’ He pointed to a door on their left.
‘You make it sound like a hotel. Not only is this insane, it’s incredibly illegal.’
The door led into a tiled ablutions area of cupboards, lockers, mop racks and steel sinks. Hosepipe hung on the far wall beside a further door.
‘I just can’t believe you’re doing this,’ said Watson.
Quist pushed open the door. The dark morgue lay silent, the crisp air thick with the smell of bleach, lemon, and something else. Something that had passed its sell-by date and, despite the detergent camouflage, left the youth feeling decidedly perturbed.
Watson zipped up his jacket. ‘Cold, isn’t it?’ he whispered.
‘Yes.’ Quist flicked on the lights and buttoned his own overcoat. ‘It has to be.’
His assistant shuddered. It was a cold reminiscent of supermarket chill areas, where milk and other perishable commodities are kept. He knew the commodities here were as perishable as you could possibly get, but decided not to dwell upon it.
‘Listen,’ he said, ‘why don’t we...’
‘Get this over with quickly?’ Quist pulled him down the three steps and nodded to the doors at the opposite end of the room. ‘That’s the way in for the ambulances. I’d better make sure it’s locked.’
‘Yeah, you do that.’ Watson’s panicky eyes only half-noticed the dissection tables and wheeled stretchers. Instead a morbid fascination drew him to the wall of metal hatches. ‘Do you reckon they’re all, er, occupied?’
Quist hurried back from checking the entrance. ‘From the register, I’d say so.’ He swung open number eleven. ‘Remember not to touch anything.’
‘Thanks. I needed that reminder.’
The detective slid out a steel drawer. ‘Here she is.’ A plastic sheet covered a human shape and he pulled it from the face. ‘Lisa Mirren.’
Watson had only seen one corpse in his life and that was Gillette. There was no way he wanted to see another, but a magnetism compelled him to gingerly peep from behind Quist.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the detective. ‘You’re not going to like this, but I’m afraid it’s necessary.’
Watson recognised the dead girl from Grant’s photos and the news. He had to admit, this stiff was nicer than Gillette. The skin was healthy pink, more like a sleeper than a cadaver, and her hair still held its golden lustre. He noticed the smoothness of her cheeks, her neck and...
‘Hang about,’ he gasped, heart pounding. ‘Have you got the right bird? I know she looks the same, but I thought her throat...’
‘Was torn out?’
Watson gulped. ‘Maybe it’s because I hang around with such a great sleuth, but I’ve started spotting details like that.’
‘You also read the post mortem at Lestrade’s.’ Quist peeled away the sheet exposing a body free of autopsy scars.
The teenager’s heart raced faster. ‘But surely...’ He halted as the girl’s hand twitched. ‘Guv, did you see...’
Lisa convulsed, eyes snapping open.
‘Jesus!’ Watson leapt back. ‘She’s alive.’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’ Quist dragged him away as the corpse flipped over onto hands and knees with incredible speed. ‘Stay behind me.’
‘Fuck!’ His mind spinning, Watson stifled a scream. ‘What the fuck?’
Lisa dropped her head, shrouding her features in a blonde curtain, a hiss escaping as arm and leg muscles flexed. Naked beauties stretching in the doggy position would normally excite Watson, but he much preferred them alive. This performance provided the same titillation as a bucket of ice water.
‘Keep moving back,’ murmured Quist. ‘Do exactly what I say.’
Lisa lifted her head and Watson froze in terror to see the golden hair fall from her scalp and turn to dust. Dark stubble replaced it, instantly sprouting into a growth of thick black fur.
‘This is insane,’ stammered the youth, his eyes bulging as the fur spread to cover her mutating face, torso and limbs. ‘What the fuck is happening?’
‘She’s transforming,’ said Quist, guiding him backwards.
Lisa’s grey eyes were now an unearthly green which seemed to glow. Her nose and mouth had extended into a feline muzzle.
‘No, this isn’t happening.’ Watson yelped as the creature sprang from the drawer and landed silently on the tiled floor, the swift and impossible transformation complete. He stared in sheer disbelief at a black panther. ‘This is insane. This really cannot be happening.’
‘It can smell the blood,’ said Quist. ‘It wants it.’
The teenager chanced a quick look around the room. ‘What blood?’
‘Our blood.’
‘Oh fuck!’
‘Keep backing away to the door, but don’t make any sudden moves.’ Quist stepped in front of him. ‘You’ll be okay. She’s disorientated from waking and hasn’t reached full strength.’
The huge cat paced slowly towards them, a deep growl rumbling in its throat and tongue lolling hungrily over razor teeth.
‘Hullo, Lisa,’ croaked Watson. ‘We know Raoul’s brother...’
‘I wouldn’t bother,’ said Quist. ‘What’s left of Lisa is masked by hunger. You’re no longer speaking to a human.’
‘Why am I not surprised to hear...’ He stiffened as the panther fixed him with a stare.
‘She’s trying to mesmerise you.’ The detective backed up against one of the steel cadaver trolleys. ‘Don’t look into her eyes.’
Watson was too busy looking into her eyes to hear the warning. Cursing, Quist spun the wheeled stretcher around from behind in a wide arc, launching it at the cat. It sprang back, allowing him enough time to scoop the hypnotised youth over his shoulder, race through the exit and slam the door. The panther crashed against the woodwork, clawing frenziedly and shrieking in frustrated rage as he twisted the key.
‘Are you okay?’ demanded Quist.
Watson jiggled his head to clear the fogginess, and looked around in terror. ‘Okay?’ He sagged back against the door and laughed manically. ‘No, I’m fuckin’ well not okay. I couldn’t move. I thought that thing was gonna get me.’
A black paw smashed through the wood, the claws fastening on his throat.
‘It appears you were right,’ said Quist.
***
Alan Todd leant on a blanket trolley waiting for the elevator’s arrival. The young man enjoyed meeting different people every day; it was one of the best parts of being a hospital porter. It was also fortunate, for they didn’t come much different than the bearded character behind him.
‘I wonder if you could help?’
Todd spun round. A moment ago the corridor had been empty. He hadn’t heard them approach, but amazingly, five men stood less than a yard away.
‘We’re looking for the mortuary,’ said Strand.
‘Er, sorry.’ The porter ran a wary eye over the black suits and sunglasses. ‘The public aren’t allowed down there.’
‘Not allowed?’ Most of Strand’s people would have used the glare here; the effects left frozen victims devoid of will and open to orders. Strand occasionally indulged himself with blunter methods. His fingers locked on the man’s throat like a tungsten clamp, his talons sprouting. ‘I’ll ask again.’ He lifted the purple face effortlessly. ‘Where will we find...’
‘Through there,’ croaked Todd. ‘Down the stairs and left along the passage. The morgue’s next to the blood bank.’
‘Thank you.’ Strand lowered him and retracted his c
laws. Apart from occasions where recipients had weak necks, this technique generally gleaned fast results. ‘You’ve been most helpful.’
He led the bodyguards to the stairs as the porter staggered to the nearest phone.
‘Shouldn’t we silence him, Sir?’ asked Browning, looking back. He’ll probably ring the police.’
‘Forget him,’ snapped Strand. Probably ring them? He was counting on it.
‘Next to the blood bank, huh?’ said Fisher.
‘Feeling peckish, are we?’ Strand glanced at him. ‘Be a good boy and I’ll see about letting you have a snack later.’
***
‘How do you feel about detective work now?’ Quist peeled the talons from Watson’s throat before they could puncture the skin. ‘Still bored?’
‘Fuck off!’ The curse was a gargled stammer. The youth slid down the door and dropped to his knees coughing. ‘What the fuck just happened in there?’
‘Don’t be obtuse. She turned herself into a panther.’
‘I must be getting better at this deduction lark, because that’s what I thought.’ Watson crawled away and turned to watch the paw grope blindly through the hole, averting his face as it vanished and the cat’s green eyes appeared. ‘It’s insane and totally fuckin’ impossible, but yeah, that’s what I thought.’
‘We can’t leave this thing,’ said Quist. ‘Some nurse or porter will meet it.’
‘So what the hell are we going to do?’ Massaging his throat, Watson backed up against the sinks. The door juddered and a hinge burst free. ‘Shit! How strong is it?’
‘Stronger than the door.’
‘Come on, Guv, please. There’s nothing we can do.’
The cat slammed into the wood a second time. Screws clattered on the floor.
‘No.’ Quist glanced around the ablutions room and grabbed a mop from a bucket in the corner. He broke the head over his knee leaving four feet of shaft and a splintered point. ‘I can’t have this thing loose in a hospital.’
Watson gulped. ‘What’re you going to do with that?’
‘Guess.’ He flattened himself against the wall by the morgue door, brandished the makeshift weapon like a bayoneted rifle, and shooed his assistant away. ‘Go up there to the end of the room.’
‘I don’t believe this.’ Watson shuffled backwards towards the office, his entire body shaking. ‘I don’t believe...’ The cat slammed the door again, this time crashing through. The green eyes locked onto him, its feline features contorting in glee. ‘Oh my God!’ The youth whimpered as realisation hit home - he was bait to attract its attention. ‘Oh... my... God!’
Watson watched in paralysed horror as Quist lunged from his hiding place. The panther caught the movement, twisted and reared up, but the spike had been slammed between the front legs before any guard could be raised. Hissing and clawing at the pole, the cat twisted and spun, spraying blood and transforming the walls into something the Tate Modern would be overjoyed to exhibit. It collided with a closet and rolled onto its side, spewing gore onto the tiles. Quist kicked the spike hard, driving it through the ribcage and out between the shoulder blades. A dreadful chuckling erupted and then the cat juddered and lay still.
‘It’s over.’ Quist tugged his overcoat straight. ‘She’s gone.’
Watson gaped at the blood; it was everywhere. He closed his eyes in the hope that, when they opened, things may be different or he may have woken. They weren’t and he hadn’t. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he whispered, trembling uncontrollably.
‘I know it’s difficult to accept, but she was Ubasteri and...’
‘No, you twat. I can’t believe you set me up as bait.’ He shook his head. ‘She was what?’
‘Ubasteri. We don’t have time for me to explain here, but they’re shapeshifters who live on human blood. They’re like vampires, in that daylight is lethal to them...’
‘What?’ Watson ran a hand through his curly hair, his mind spinning. ‘What?’
‘They’re shapeshifters who...’
‘I heard what you fuckin’ said. It’s going in my ears, but my brain is kicking it back out, okay?’
Lisa’s fur had vanished and her body had reverted to human form. Watson’s stomach lurched as her eyes fell into the skull and fluid poured from her ears with a stench like month-old fish.
‘Oh, my God,’ he croaked. ‘What’s this?’
‘Complete molecular breakdown.’
The belly burst over the tiled floor, intestines and organs turning to a thick, gelatinous ooze.
‘Complete what?’ The teenager gagged. ‘What the hell’s happening to her?’
‘In simple terms, Lisa had her blood drained by supernatural creatures which transformed her into one of them. The metamorphosis causes an entire change in cell structure and DNA. If the life spark is removed, the tissues decompose within seconds.’
‘I’ll try again. What the hell’s happening to her?’
Quist thought for a moment. ‘She’s turning to gunge.’
The bubbling flesh had vanished and the bones were crumbling, the corpse becoming a putrid pool.
‘Supernatural creatures,’ whispered Watson. He leant against the wall dazed, the bizarre reality of what he’d just experienced finally beginning to sink in. ‘Genuine shapeshifters? What did you call her? Ubasteri?’
‘The Ubasteri were an Egyptian cult who worshipped Bast the cat god, but we have no time for this. We’ll discuss it later when we...’
‘We’ll discuss it now. You knew what she was, but you took me in there unprepared and she tried to kill me.’
‘How could I prepare you? If I’d tried to tell you about this, you’d have thought me crazy and never come.’
‘Lisa was killed by vampire cats and you knew? How could you know?’
‘I’ve had a strange feeling about these deaths from the beginning. I was fairly sure when I found out about the feline hair, the missing blood in those murder victims, and Lisa’s throat being torn after death.’
‘The cat hair and missing blood I can understand, but...’
‘They usually bite the carotid artery in the neck and drain the body. Camouflaging the feeding evidence with lacerations is common practise. When a victim is drained, it takes five days for the corpse to become Ubasteri and I knew Lisa would be waking tonight at dusk. That’s why I insisted you came here. If I was to have your assistance, you had to see her for yourself. I’m sorry for putting you through that, but you’d never have believed me otherwise.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘And I was right. You are strong enough to cope with this. You did fine.’
‘Oh absolutely! Apart from almost filling my trousers and having a heart-attack, everything was just fuckin’ marvellous. That Diane bird on the railway was drained. Is she down here too?’
‘She was decapitated,’ said Quist. ‘It’s impossible for her to become a shapeshifter.’
‘What about Becca Travis?’
‘Charred legs? Was that a serious question?’
The gory transformation on the floor was almost complete, the mess drying and turning to scarlet powder. Quist brushed his blood-splattered leather overcoat and the stains fell away as dust.
‘Hey,’ said Watson. ‘That’s just like...’
‘Gillette’s door? Yes, whoever broke in cut himself. Their blood turns to dust on leaving the body. It confirmed my suspicions when I found it on the glass and I knew we had to visit the morgue.’
‘Giant fuckin’ cats murdered Gillette and you took me in there? They could still have been inside when...’
‘I’m not an idiot. Sunlight is lethal to them and the afternoon sun was shining at the time. The killer must have called earlier in the fog.’
‘Er, right.’ Watson laughed weakly. ‘Cats, Egy
ptian cults, sunlight? Whooo! I honestly can’t get my head around this, Guv. I mean, if I hadn’t seen it...’
Quist heard movement in the office next door, snatched Watson’s lapels and dragged him swiftly and silently to the lockers. Strand and the bodyguards entered the ablutions room too late to see the broom closet close.
‘Ah!’ Sangster spotted the powder by the shattered door. ‘Could that be the Mirren girl?’
‘Either that or someone has spilt their paprika.’ Strand bent to study the broken mop, then lowered his shades and peered into the morgue at the empty storage unit. ‘Someone has done the job for us. Someone with a knowledge of the Elite.’
Two pairs of ears pricked up in the cramped blackness of the cupboard.
‘The President won’t like this,’ said Hinds. ‘We left it too late. We should have come last night, or earlier today.’
‘He’s right, Sir,’ agreed Fisher. ‘We were supposed to get rid of the evidence before she awoke. Why did you want to sit waiting in that car park? When the President finds out...’
‘That’s my problem, isn’t it?’ Strand frowned at Browning. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Blood!’ The guard had stiffened. He sniffed the air, nose twitching and flattening into feline form.
‘We’re next to the blood bank,’ said Strand. ‘Come on. There’s nothing for us to do here and we have another call to make.’
‘It isn’t the blood bank.’ Browning sniffed again and turned to the cupboards lining the wall, his cat muzzle extending. ‘This is fresh, live blood. Warm blood in motion.’
Sangster raised his head and tasted the air. ‘He’s right,’ he said quietly. ‘I think someone is in here.’
Watson tried swallowing, but his mouth was dry and his throat tight.
‘Never mind.’ Strand herded the team back into the office. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘But, Sir...’ Sangster’s jaw fell. ‘Whoever destroyed the girl obviously knows about the Elite. Hadn’t we better find out what happened here? And this scent...’
‘I said we’re leaving. I want to get out before...’ Opening the door to the corridor, he walked into a police officer. ‘Before this happens.’
