by C. T. Phipps
I blinked, unsure of how to react. “Right, I understand.”
Emma looked out the window. “I hope not. I mean, I loved my sister, but I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“Huh?” I asked, surprised.
Emma looked guilty. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Honest.”
“Come on,” I said, reaching over to touch her arm. “It’s me. You know you can tell me anything.”
Emma flinched when I touched her. Something she’d never done before. “Sorry, it’s just, Victoria and I had a complicated relationship.”
“Well, that’s sisters for you.”
“She tried to drown me when I was nine,” Emma said.
My eyes widened. Drowning was the worst way to die. I still had nightmares about what happened to my cousin Jenny. And at the hands of family, too? “Wait, wouldn’t she have been, like, ten?”
“Victoria was always an overachiever. She called me a fake werewolf and an impure stain on the bloodline.” Emma looked down. “Victoria later claimed she was just joking but it felt awfully real at the time. There was also the time she set fire to my dollhouse with all my dolls in it. One time, Brad even caught her with a silver letter opener. That was when she got sent to boarding school for two years. They only brought her back when she developed the ability to change. She was a late bloomer like your brother.”
I remembered Bright Falls High School had been a lot more peaceful for those two years. It had allowed me to concentrate on my studies and not have to deal with everyone complaining about all the hell she was raising.
“I think my brother is a no-bloomer but that’s not his fault,” I said, taking a deep breath. “So you’ve got mixed feelings about her death and feel guilty about it?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, frowning. “I mean, I shouldn’t but I do. It was especially bad this past year when she got into a bad crowd. I mean, badder than the cocaine-snorting bitches—I can say that because they’re my cousins—that were her girl posse.”
“That crowd include my brother?” I asked, realizing what she was implying.
Emma made a little whimpering noise. “I mean, surely you knew something?”
“I am not my brother’s keeper,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and stepping out of my ratty old car. “I knew he was hanging around with a bunch of losers, but I thought it was just your typical stoner crowd. What did you hear? I mean, contrary to what certain politicians say, cocaine is significantly worse than pot.”
Emma looked down then looked out the window again before unbuckling her seatbelt. “It was Brad who told me to stay away from Victoria and your brother. That they were doing stuff my grandfather had to cover up.”
“Like drugs?” I asked, wondering how much her grandfather really was against inter-shifter relationships if he was covering it up.
“Like dealing them,” Emma said. “Rudy is where Vicki and the posse got their drugs. Your brother was involved.”
Holy crap.
“That’s a factor you could have brought up earlier,” I said, taking a deep breath. “My brother the drug dealer.”
“You didn’t know?” Emma asked.
“Of course I didn’t know!” I said, shocked. “Jesus, Danu, and Herne. I am so going to kick his ass after we prove he’s innocent and solve your sister’s murder.”
Emma smiled and gave me her ‘mentally wagging my tail’ look. “Thank you, again. I don’t have my head on straight through all of this, but Victoria didn’t deserve to die. She was a good person at heart, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Bitchiness doesn’t equal Joffrey.”
“Who?”
“You obviously didn’t spend too much time with my brother.”
The two of us proceeded to the sheriff’s office entrance and entered to find an argument brewing I didn’t want any part of. It wasn’t a particularly interesting-looking building on the inside, either, with bullet-proof glass separating from some desks, some doors, and a big sheriff’s star on the back wall. Standing in front of the star were Marcus O’Henry, Clara O’Henry, and a handsome man dressed like an FBI agent off of TV.
Marcus O’Henry was a silver-haired, bronze-skinned man who was in his seventies but could pass as a man in his fifties due to the regenerative power of shifter blood. He was wearing a red suit and pin-stripe purple pants that were a crime against fashion, but I also noticed the cane in his hand with a silver wolf’s head. I remembered him beating his son, Christopher, with it during one of the Moon Gatherings. Scared the hell out of me. While my father was conservative, he didn’t rule his family with an iron fist the way Marcus did.
Clara O’Henry was a woman in her early thirties and the baby of Emma’s three aunts. Clara had short red hair, freckles, and a well-muscled but lithe frame that still caught a lot of attention around town. At least from the humans. Clara was wearing a brown sheriff’s uniform with blue jeans and standing her ground with her father.
Clara was the least attractive of her siblings. That meant she only looked like a supporting player in a soap opera than the lead. Mythology was full of ugly-ass monsters and beautiful female ones and that, unfortunately, seemed to be true in real life. Shifter men came in big and beefy while the women were sultry, buxom, and curvy, with rare exceptions like myself.
The handsome man looked to be in his mid-twenties rather than the older type you’d expect as an FBI agent, but I saw the little badge on his front. It reminded me of that TV show Quantico with the ridiculously beautiful cast. He was tall, black haired, and had a broad grin. I thought he might be partially Asian like Keanu Reeves or Dean Cain, but it was difficult to tell and just a guess on my part.
“I want that monster locked up,” Marcus snapped, his voice having more than a little werewolf growl to it. “No, worse, I want him turned over. We should settle this the old way.”
“We’re a civilized people now,” Clara said, not the least probably because there was an FBI agent beside us. “We follow the law of the United States now.”
“He murdered my girl!” Marcus shouted. “A royal of the red-wolf lineage!”
“That and a dollar will get you a soda,” Clara said. “The law must be respected. Do you not think I want to see Victoria avenged? She’s my niece!”
“If I may speak up,” the FBI agent said. “I don’t think it is Mr. Doe who is responsible for the murder and I would like to conduct my own investigation without tribal interference.”
“Tribal!?” Clara snapped, turning to him. “Listen, you damn spook—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, spreading out his hands. “Is that not the right word? Please, I only want to help.”
“Um—” I started to say, raising a finger to interject.
“You!” Marcus turned around and pointed at me. “You and your family have been nothing but a plague on mine!”
“Hi, Grandpa!” Emma said, waving.
Marcus stared at her, looked half ready to shift right there, then looked back at Clara before storming off past us.
“Well, that could have gone better,” the FBI agent said, clasping his hands together.
“You think!?” Clara said, sighing. “Hi, Emma. Hi, Jane.”
“Hi,” I said, unsure how to proceed. “I really don’t think my brother is a murderer.”
“I have to investigate all possibilities,” Clara said, her voice low. “Either way, your family is with your brother in the back. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go handle some things. Like an insane old wolf who is threatening all sorts of things.”
Clara walked past me through the front doors, presumably to go speak with her dad.
“Nice to meet you,” the FBI agent said. “I’m Special Agent Alexander Timmons, Supernatural Affairs Division. It’s like the Department of Supernatural Security, but not incredibly racist.”
“Is it?” I said, having been brought up to have a healthy fear of anyone with a badge. “Because I’m pretty sure it’s legal to shoot me as vermin in most states.”
“Except vampires. They’re all evil,” Emma said, completely oblivious to the hypocrisy. “Also, fairies. Demons too. Oh and rakshasa!”
Alex chuckled. “In any case, your brother isn’t responsible for the late Ms. O’Henry’s death.”
“Duh, I knew that. My brother couldn’t kill time. I remember when I killed a squirrel in wolf form and brought it back. He threw up.” Emma elbowed me as I realized this was actually important. “Wait, how do you know that?”
“While astral projecting, I saw a vision of the Archangel Gabriel who bore the face of my dead mother. That was, of course, just one of the many spirits that assume human form from the expectations of the viewer. This spirit told me the individual responsible for the murders I’m investigating is actually a werewolf. Also, that I should beware the color fuchsia.”
I stared at him. “Bulls—”
Alex interrupted me. “I’m considered unconventional due to the fact I’m a practicing theurgist and wizard. A little Hermetic spiritualism, some ki-enhanced martial arts, a dash of Daoist sorcery, and a cherry of postmodern will-working. However, in this case, the answers are very difficult to come by and I suspect this case will be more difficult than most.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Listen—”
“You’re a psychic,” Alex said. “A powerful one. Your mother recommended you be allowed to examine the body.”
“My mother?” I asked. “Wouldn’t she?”
“Marcus O’Henry has refused access to the body,” Alex said. “However, should I leave the door open, I think it’d be in your best interest to walk through.”
I blinked. “Wait, you want an eighteen-year-old random stranger to interfere in your investigation?”
Alex patted me on the shoulder, smiling a winning smile. “Absolutely.”
He then gestured down the hall to the last door on the right then walked to join Clara and Marcus outside.
After he left, I looked behind me. “What the hell was that?”
“Well, that was easy,” Emma said cheerfully.
“Did you arrange this?” I asked, looking at her.
“No!” Emma said, frowning. “I came right to you after I heard!”
I stared at her. “The FBI is allowing me to look at a corpse of someone I…uh, was friends with. That’s normal. Also, why is there an FBI agent here already? There’s only been one murder and it was a couple of hours ago.”
“They found the body three hours ago.”
“Ah,” I said, wondering why she was correcting me on specifics. “The FBI doesn’t get involved in local crimes until they’re part of larger cases. Television told me that.”
“He said God told him to,” Emma said, as if it was the most natural response in the world. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Uh, no,” I said, staring at him. “Even if I believed in the Christian God, which I’m not sure I do, I don’t think that’s how it worked on. Otherwise, angels would have fallen down and told us who Jack the Ripper was.”
“The Lord works in mysterious—”
“Don’t, please,” I said, raising my hand. “This is already weird enough for me.”
Emma frowned and I remembered her sister was lying in the morgue just a dozen yards away. It was hard to remember that. Victoria’s death just didn’t seem quite real yet. I had to wrap my head around that.
“Whatever the case, I’m going to go in there now. Could you serve as a lookout?”
“For whom?” Emma asked, frowning. “We have permission.”
“I don’t think we have permission-permission,” I corrected her. “Agent Cooper isn’t playing with a full deck even if he is telling the truth. If human mages are anything like shifter ones, he may be operating at an entirely different level. You’ve never met Uncle Jorge. He lives most of the year as a stag and claims he has regular sex with the moon.”
“Timmons,” Emma said.
“What?”
“Timmons, not Cooper,” Emma said.
“It’s a reference to Twin Peaks,” I said, sighing. “Something I just realized you’ve never seen. Okay, will you just do that for me? If one of us gets trouble, it should be me.”
“I want to see my sister,” Emma said, her voice low. “Please.”
I closed my eyes. “Okay, sure. I’m sorry.”
I headed into the morgue and was surprised it wasn’t colder. There was a single room with the right wall covered in a dozen slots for bodies while a pair of tables sat in the middle of the chamber. There was a body bag on one of them that caused me to suck in my breath, as I knew it was Victoria. There was just something in the air that felt like her presence, bitchy and judgmental but also fully confident of her own invincibility. I admired that about her. Now she was never going to be able to judge anyone else again.
That made me sad.
“I’m sorry,” I said, walking in the room and shutting the wooden door behind us. There was no medical examiner in sight and I was extremely glad of that, since what we were doing wouldn’t look right if we were caught. No, Officer, the sister of the victim and sister of the primary suspect were just trying to get psychic vibes off of the body. We weren’t trying to tamper with evidence or anything.
Crap. Maybe we shouldn’t be here.
“Is that her, you think?” Emma asked, locking the door behind us. That wasn’t a good thing, because there wasn’t another exit.
“Yeah,” I said, sucking in my breath. “Time to do my magic.”
That was when one of the morgue slots opened up and a tray slid out with a fully dressed body on it.
A body that sat up.
I screamed.
Chapter Four
Emma covered my mouth, muffling my scream. It put to lie any idea I was going to be handling this investigation better than her. Thank Danu this room had thick walls.
Looking up to the man who had been laying on the morgue tray, I saw he was wearing a white lab coat and had pale white skin with shining black hair. He was gorgeous, with movie-star sculpted good looks and perfect white teeth. There were things “off” about him, though, that set my inner animal to the ‘flight’ rather than ‘drool’ response. His fingernails were unnaturally long and sharp like claws, while his canines were extended ever-so-slightly. His gaze was also lacking the kind of warm inflection the living possessed. He wasn’t breathing and just sat there, unnaturally still, like a statue.
A vampire.
The creature before me then raised one hand. “Howdy, folks! Sorry about that. I bet I gave you a real fright.”
He was trying for a rural Michigan accent and failing miserably.
Emma let go of her hand over my mouth then grinned, clearly as terrified as I was but handling it better.
“Hi,” Emma said.
I took a deep breath. “Are you the coroner?”
“Yes,” the man said, extending out his raised hand to shake mine. “Gerald Pasteur. Did you know you don’t have to be a doctor to be a medical examiner? I am, though. It’s just that not many people in the town want to be treated by a vampire.”
This was surreal. I didn’t even know there was a vampire in Bright Falls, let alone one who worked for the sheriff’s office. Werewolves and vampires had a complicated relationship. Unlike what Underworld taught, they weren’t innate enemies and even had some sort of connection.
Vampire children—they could have those with humans—often spontaneously became shifters. Sometimes dead werewolves rose as vampires. In Bright Falls, though, vampires were considered a plague on the town and any were who served them was considered to have demeaned themselves.
“Uh, right,” I said, looking around the room. “Why were you sleeping in the morgue?”
Gerald shrugged. “I sometimes sleep here during the day when I’m working late. I decided to get a
fresh start while the sun was still up today.”
Wow, he was way too cheerful for his job. “Ah, then you don’t know.”
Gerald looked over to the body bag on the table. “Oh, someone died, I take it?”
“My sister,” Emma said, her voice low. “Victoria. She was murdered.”
Gerald reacted to Victoria’s name as if he’d been shot, his eyes widening then becoming almost human for a moment. He raised a hand toward the body bag then took a single breath. A gesture all the more noticeable since he didn’t breathe at all. “I see.”
“Did you know my sister?” Emma asked.
“Yes,” Gerald said, frowning. “I did. She was a beautiful ball of sunshine in a town covered in darkness, secrets, and lies.”
For a moment, I look at the vampire and imagined him as the horrible monster who murdered Victoria. Were they having an affair? Had he killed her? It was in that moment I realized I was being horribly racist. Treating him the same way shifters were treated across the country. “So you haven’t had time to examine the body yet?”
“No,” Gerald said, walking over to the body bag. “But I promise I will find out who was responsible for her death.”
“Right,” I said, knowing this was now extra awkward. “Listen, could you—”
“Does this have anything to do with the other murders?” Gerald asked. “That FBI agent who burned with true faith and witchcraft said murders were coming, but I didn’t believe him. Clara didn’t believe him. Dammit.”
I stared at him. “There have been more murders?”
“You have to let her touch the body!” Emma suddenly piped.
“What?” Gerald said, now probably thinking we’re a pair of crazy people.
“I have psychic powers,” I said a little too quickly. “I can read objects. I’m like…a…well, psychic.”
Gerald raised an eyebrow at me. “Really?”
“It’s a weredeer thing,” I said, taking a deep breath and puffing it out. “I mean, Emma is family.”
“Yes, I give permission for her to uh…read my sister’s corpse,” Emma said. “Something I can totally do.”
