What a pompous shit?
I threw the phone onto the bed and jumped into the shower. I didn’t have a lot of time between body and work—had to make the most of it.
When had my life become corpses and nightmares?
I took a deep breath, letting the warm water of the shower wash over me. Wake me up.
Forty-five minutes later, I was cruising up the highway at seventy miles an hour. The sun was already up, and the air thick with the humidity of summer setting in. Derek had been right. I couldn’t have missed it. The entire off-ramp was blocked and the flash of red and blue lights colored the warm foggy morning sky with a sickening shade of purple.
I parked a half a mile from the police tape and hiked up the side of the road along the trail of cop cars and ambulances. I’d worn jeans and my running shoes and was glad for it. By the time I got to the police tape, my shoes, jeans, and socks were soaked through from the wet, ankle-high grass. It hadn’t even rained but in Ohio, summer mornings were damp and the air thick, making me sweat. I hate summer.
Derek stood off in the distance, dressed in a neatly pressed suit and looking the part of the Lead Detective in charge. I waved, getting his attention. He strode over to me with a wide gait and quick confident steps without saying another word to the two uniforms he’d been talking to. Power looked good on him.
Derek had been promoted to Detective after he’d gotten an anonymous tip, leading him to two human hearts in a hotel room, closing a rather gruesome case of two murdered women. He’d taken the test for detective and passed with flying colors. Patrick and I had handed him Midnight Ash’s servant, Simon Tacoma, to take the fall for the murders. He was currently serving time in Franklin County’s lovely mental facility, claiming to be the human servant of a five-hundred-year-old ninja vampire. Can anyone say Renfield syndrome?
“It’s about damned time,” Derek gruffed, lifting the tape for me and slipping a lanyard over my head. The badge had VISITOR printed on the front in big, bold, black letters.
“You woke me up out of a dead sleep and if you keep pushing me, I’ll go right the fuck back home. I haven’t had any coffee so test me at your own risk,” I growled.
“All right, all right,” he said, backing off. “I just hope you haven’t eaten yet. I’ve had three guys puke on me already.” He pointed on ahead of us, where a group of uniform officers stood doing nothing, fidgeting and shuffling their feet like they didn’t know what to do with themselves. That was a bad sign.
Derek charged through the men like they were a wall of heavy bags, shoving them aside and out of his way. Not one of them protested or even grumbled as they were forced aside. That was a bad sign, too.
A body, limp with legs and arms bent at unnatural angles, lay in the center of the ring of cops. The grass was coated in a thick viscous sheen of browning blood and the uniform cops gathered at the edges of the splatter. Derek handed me a pair of plastic booties and I slipped them over my shoes before I stepped into the fray.
The big burly guys surrounding the body were waiting for me to get sick or freak out. I felt their anxiety on the air, tasting like cotton candy, sticky and sweet.
Men, always expect women to lose it. Cops were no different. This, unfortunately, wasn’t the first gruesome body I’d seen in the last year. It both amazed and frightened me how quickly I was able to detach, adjust. At one point, this pile of parts had been a living, breathing being. Now, it was nothing but a pile of mangled flesh and gore.
I was starting to think everyone was right about me. I was afraid that maybe I was the cold bitch the supernatural community thought I was. Should that upset me? I didn’t know anymore.
The body smelled fresh. It’d only been dead for a few hours. It hadn’t yet taken on the sickening smell of decomp. Stepping next to the body, I crouched down, resting my elbows on my knees.
The dead woman lay on her back with her torso exposed. The skin was torn from the flesh in ribbons of slash marks. Her hands and feet were untouched, a splatter of blood staining the delicate white skin of her slender fingers and her powder pink nails. Her face was gone, a gruesome smile of exposed teeth and bone gleamed up at me. Blond hair lay strewn against the grass, her scalp ripped from her skull. Her clothes were torn to shreds and it appeared as if someone had slashed her stomach open like a ripe fruit.
Her insides lay on the grass, on her chest, and over her legs in a jumble of tissue and muscle. I turned to Derek with a grim expression. There had to’ve been a reason he called me but I hadn’t seen it yet. I held out my hand to him in expectation.
“What?” His brow furrowed, bringing a strand of dark hair flopping down over his forehead and into his eyes.
“Gloves.”
He placed them in my waiting hand and I snapped the gloves into place, filling my nose with the smell of latex and baby powder instead of ruptured bowls and old blood. I ran my fingers along the wounds in her torso, or what was left of it. The edges of her flesh were ridged and coarse like it had been torn, not cut. Bruises flourished on both her shoulders, coloring her skin a dark purple. Beneath her body, indentations pressed in the soft ground beneath her where someone had pushed her down and held her.
The loose skin on her face dangled over her ears in small strips like someone had peeled it away inch by excruciating inch. The body was empty, like there wasn’t enough gore to fill her abdominal cavity. I was pretty sure that her kidneys were missing, probably more but I didn’t see the matching organs in her gut. The woman had grass in her hair, not just from where she lay on the ground, but around her hairline flopping back from her forehead like she’d landed on her face.
“Can I roll her?”
“Yeah, she’s been cleared by forensics,” Derek said. His tone was even, and much too calm. I didn’t believe him. I smelled the adrenaline running through his system, making his sweat smell sweet as honey. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, this got to him. It should’ve gotten to me, too.
I lifted the woman’s shoulder, rolling her half over. Etched into her back was the real reason Derek had called me. Running lengthwise down her spine were four gaping wounds, long, open, and ripping her open through her spine and cutting her ribcage in spots. Whatever had been sunk into her back was sharp enough to slice bone as well as muscle and flesh.
I spread my fingers out over the wounds, tracing the ripped flesh down her back with my fingers. They were claw marks, all right. Whoever it was, had chased her had brought her down with one quick stroke that sank into her back and shoulder blades. The strike had swept downward, severing her spine.
The woman had been paralyzed from probably the waist down. She wouldn’t’ve been able to fight anyone once that middle claw had sliced across her vertebra. I laid the body back down on the grass in the pool of sticky, congealing blood that had collected beneath her. By the amount of blood on the ground, I figured she lived at least a few minutes while they tore her up. Most likely they’d eaten her. Once I saw the claw marks, I was sure the ridges along the wound in her torso would turn out to be teeth marks; wolf teeth.
I stood, stretching my back as I removed the gloves from my hands. Turning, I stalked away from the body. The smell was getting intense as the temperature and humidity rose. I wanted to be as far away from that smell as I could get. I didn’t want it lingering in my nose or else I’d be able to smell it in my sleep. Again, thanks, Danny. The weird part was her flesh didn’t smell bad; it smelled like food and my stomach growled. That reaction scared me.
The coroner moved in behind us, lifted the body, and placed it onto the gurney for transport back to the morgue. Derek followed me out of the circle of uniformed police, silent, but watchful as I handed the gloves and booties to one of the techs.
“So, Kid, what do ya think?” He had an edge to his voice like he knew it was something bad. He wasn’t trying to hide anymore that this one had
gotten to him.
“Well,” I said, glancing back at the ring of dispersing cops and the now empty field. “I think we have a problem.” The body was gone but the grass still showed the signs of the carnage, stained with the dark, drying blood of the victim.
“I had a bad feeling this was up your alley,” he said, following my gaze.
I glanced back at him. He had dark circles under his eyes and his lips thinned into a grimace of worry.
“How do we deal with this?” he asked, turning back to me. “What am I going to put in my report?” He slashed his hand through his dark, chocolate brown hair in frustration.
“Say it was an animal attack,” I muttered. “That’s as close to truth as you’re going to get,” I added under my breath. “That, however, doesn’t explain why she got out of her car up there,” I said, pointing to 23 a couple of hundred yards away, “and ran down here.” I was trying to help, I swear.
“This case is going to be splashed all over the news. It’s too gruesome not to be. I need to find who did this,” he said with a forceful, authoritative tone I wasn’t used to hearing directed at me. I stepped up to him, closing the distance between us.
“No, I need to find who did this. You’re out of it from this moment on, got it?” I lashed out, too tired to be nice.
“I think you forget who the cop is here and who’s the civilian,” he snapped with an arrogant cock of his head.
I smiled back at him, using the smile that had frightened both vampire and werewolf alike. I knew it never reached my eyes. He took a step back at my expression and tensed his shoulders. At least his instincts were good and he watched me with a cautious glare.
“I think you forget who’s the hunter here and who’s the prey,” I snarled. His eyes grazed over me from head to toe, evaluating me and probably wondering if it was really worth pissing me off. After a moment, he took another step away and started walking. He waited for me to fall in alongside him.
“I don’t forget what kind of world you run in, Kid. How can I?” he asked. Derek’s voice was harsh and unforgiving. “But a case like this can’t stay unsolved. I need to put a name and a face to it. You know that.”
I did know that. The general population would be on edge if they thought a deranged killer was still out there waiting to slice up and eat the next person who came along, even if it was an animal. Having Derek around was good for information, good for cover, and, hell, good for me. I needed all the normal friends I could get. Most of the time, he was a friend. Other times, like now, he was a huge pain in my ass.
“I know that, Derek,” I snapped, finally frustrated. I hadn’t had enough sleep. I was drained and trying to pretend that everything was peachy keen. It wasn’t all right and I suspected that Derek knew it, too. “I’ll do what I can, but my first priority has to be bringing the bastards down,” I replied, with a more subdued tone and an unspoken apology as I tried hard to take the edge out of my tone.
“Why do you say bastards? Why plural?” he asked with a quizzical expression. He glanced back at the scene wondering what I’d seen that he hadn’t.
“She had bruises on her shoulders and indentations in the ground. Someone held her down while the other one ate her,” I answered plainly. Revulsion washed over his face as the realization of what I’d said hit him.
“Oh God,” he whispered as his face scrunched up in horror. I could almost see the bile rising in his gorge as his Adam’s apple bounced in his throat.
“Exactly.” I circled around my car to the driver’s side, leaving him to ponder the idea of two crazed, man-eating werewolves walking around Columbus. Did he really want to deal with that? Probably not. He finally met my gaze with horror.
“Be careful,” he said, concern pinching his brow together.
“You know me,” I threw back at him with a cocky smile and got in the car. I slammed the door and waited for him to let go of the passenger side door. I was already late for work and I still had to change my clothes. Leaning down into the passenger-side window, he stuck his head in the car.
“Yeah, I do know you. Be careful, Kid.”
I smiled at him, giving him a bright, fake smile that made me cringe with the effort as I started the engine. I drove away with him rooted to the spot. Glancing at the clock on the dash, I swore to myself. By the time I got to work, I would only be an hour and a half late. That wasn’t so bad . . . right?
What could I say when my boss berated me about my punctuality? I had no plausible excuse. I’m sorry I’m late but I had to look at a corpse this morning that might have been attacked by werewolves. Sorry, that took precedence over our budget meeting. Yeah . . . no. I sat there with my mouth shut and took it, every last word.
“Dahlia.” The exasperation in his British accent was palpable. “I don’t know what has gotten into you. Over the past year, you have become distant, unreliable, and your work is falling far short of where it was only two years ago. I don’t understand what’s going on,” he said with a heavy sigh, his shirt straining against the heavy breath. He finally sat back down in his chair after pacing a line in his Persian rug. Everything he said was laced with a soft lilt of passive aggressiveness that set my teeth on edge. In his mid-sixties with hair that was completely gray, he was a bit overweight but carried it like all older distinguished men do—well. The tight line of his jaw highlighted the deep lines at the corners of his dull blue eyes. He seemed tired and I wasn’t helping. His face flushed with his anger and he glared at me like he’d never seen me before. I suppose he hadn’t.
When I’d started five years ago, I had been the model employee. I was early, stayed late, and went above and beyond what my duties were. Now, with the added responsibilities to Derek, Patrick, and the Pack, I was lucky to get into work on time. Let alone be pleasant. I wasn’t getting enough sleep and something in me just wasn’t right. I felt like I’d been burning the candles at both ends and I was quickly running out of wick.
I wanted to add something, say something that would make him feel better and made me look better. The problem was, I had nothing to say. Everything he accused me of was right. My job had taken second, maybe even third priority and I’d let it.
“What’s going on?” he asked, almost pleading with me to give him something to hold on to. Concern shown in his eyes as he sat, edging forward to the front of the chair. He probably thought I was on drugs or something. That would have been an easier way out. There was at least help for that.
What do I tell him? I’m still upset that one of my boyfriends died and I’m having weird after effects from eating a piece of his heart. He’d think I was crazy or worse, mocking his concern. No one could take that statement seriously, not unless you’d been there.
“I’m having some personal issues right now,” I murmured and even to me it sounded pathetic. I hoped to hell he’d accept that as an answer and move on.
No such luck.
“I know Danny’s death was hard on you,” he said with quiet distress. He didn’t like confronting people or dealing with other people’s emotions. This whole situation was hard for him, especially with me. I was the rock. There was nothing I could say to make this easier for him, or me.
“Perhaps you should see someone,” he said, sounding strained.
My eyes shot up at him, wide with shock and horror. The thought of therapists led my mind straight to electroshock and a remembrance of trauma from years ago. For a brief moment, I smelled the remembered scent of singed flesh and hair filling my nostrils. My heart pounded in my throat and I couldn’t stop swallowing, trying to force the lump down. Panic filled every cell of my body and my entire form went rigid in the chair.
My parents had chosen electroshock therapy when I was sixteen. They didn’t believe that I actually saw spirits, ghouls, and ghosts so, in their minds, I had to be crazy. I still hadn’t forgiven them and they didn’t
understand why.
He watched my reaction with curious eyes and pursed thin lips. I told myself it was a long time ago, and couldn’t hurt me anymore. Once, twice, and three times, I repeated that mantra in my head until my heart slowed and the heat from my flushed face receded.
I shoved everything into the black box buried deep that had saved me pain and suffering more than once. Since Danny’s death, that little black box had been opening and leaking out more and more. It was too full, too small for what I’d shoved in there. I gritted my teeth and slammed that box shut, closing off all emotions. Everything was easier that way.
I opened my eyes, much calmer and much more pleasant than before, even if it was just a show.
“I appreciate your concern,” I said with as much grace as I could force through gritted teeth, “but I would prefer to deal with this on my own.” I finished with a slight smile but I knew my eyes were still cold.
“I appreciate your independence and your veracity,” he said with an equally pleasant smile. Then his eyes fell on me like lead. “But, Dahlia, we need someone here who is here and not constantly somewhere else.” The authority in his voice was surprising. “If you can’t . . .” He left the rest unsaid. He didn’t need to say it. I nodded since I could not quite bring myself to say anything coherent. I went back to my office, shut the door, and cried.
Chapter 3
Sitting on the couch in my living room, reveling in the silence, I let my shoulders slump. The tears I thought I was done shedding ran down my cheeks again in hot streams of frustration. I never imagined my life spiraling out of control to the point where I’d be in trouble of losing my job. I buried my head in my hands and then someone knocked on my front door. I thought long and hard about not answering it until his gentle voice rolled through the door.
Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) Page 2
