Son of the Moonless Night (The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3)

by C. D. Hersh

  “Just the slug from this wound.” Kat deposited the slug with a clink in another vial. “It looks like the other shot went through him. Did they find any more at the scene?”

  The coroner took the vial she held out. “They found a couple, actually. I’ll send this to ballistics.

  Kat doubted both would match the one she removed. Only two shots fired. “One of the slugs is from another incident.”

  Her boss tipped his head and narrowed his eyes at her. “Why’d you say that?”

  “Only two wounds here,” she said quickly to cover her near revelation. She was losing her keeping-a-secret-touch. Too much time in the normal world. With a tiny shrug she hoped conveyed nonchalance, she added, “Besides, I hear that alley is crime central. Who knows how many people have been shot there.” Or shifters.

  “You certainly seem to know a lot about the crime spots in our city.”

  “Former FBI, remember?” The glare he gave her said he hadn’t forgotten, nor was he fond of her presence. He probably still harbored ill feelings because Delaney had brought her in and circumvented his examination of her daughter’s murder case last year. The entire police precinct had been up in arms when Delaney and Sylvia had, according to them, hijacked their office.

  Too bad, because she got this job legally and above board. He’d have to get used to her presence. She liked The Mistake by the Lake, as Cleveland was sometimes called, and she had adopted the city as her hometown. At least, until last night when she ran across the first hint her paranormal life had followed her. She wondered how her patient faired and if he knew what he had fought. And if she would ever see him or her grandmother’s afghan again.

  “Romanovski.”

  The coroner’s voice brought her out of her reverie.

  “Are you going to start the autopsy or do I have to do it?”

  “Sorry.” She picked up the scalpel from the instrument tray and made the incision. The vial in her pants pocket pressed against her thigh. As soon as she had the morgue to herself, she’d check out the hairs.

  Then what? Who are you going to tell?

  She drew another cut with the scalpel and laid the skin back, exposing the chest cavity. Everything looked normal on the surface, but then she’d never autopsied a shifter before and had no expectations of what she might find.

  “It looks like he had a ring removed.” The coroner lifted the dead man’s left hand and pointed at a lighter section of flesh on the ring finger.

  Kat stopped her incisions and gave her attention to the hand. Had he worn one last night? She searched her memory, but the shock of seeing him shift had erased all the details she might have remembered had she been prepared to hunt. Another thing that had lapsed since she’d quit the life. Dad would not be happy with her.

  Taking the dead man’s hand, she examined it more closely. “Looks like a rather large ring. A three quarter to half an inch oval. Maybe evidence has it.”

  “I’ll check. You keep working on the autopsy.”

  A couple of hours later, Kat finished and had nothing besides the two hairs in the vial in her pocket to show for her time. “Healthy male, probably extremely strong based on his muscle mass.” Which would make sense for a werebear. “No sign of any wounds other than the bullet holes,” she told the coroner as she peeled off her gloves. “Extremely hard nails that need a trim.” Another thing I contribute to the bear. “But otherwise, nothing unusual about him. Did you find anything out about the ring shadow?”

  “No ring among his personal possessions.” The coroner checked his watch. “I’ve got a court appearance this morning. You write the report and let Captain Temple know what you found. I’ll return this afternoon.”

  As soon as her boss left, Katrina put the hairs under the microscope. The short hair from the wound did not match the longer one from the corpse’s head. But bear fur? Inconclusive without DNA testing. She slipped the hairs back into the vial and put it in her purse for safe keeping. After filling out her report, she headed to Captain Temple’s office.

  “Come in,” Alexi called as a rap sounded on her office door.

  As Katrina handed the file to her, she said, “I have the report on the man they brought in last night.” Then Katrina turned to leave.

  “Stay, in case I have questions.”

  “It’s pretty cut and dried.”

  Something in Katrina’s voice caused Alexi to look up. She scanned the deputy coroner’s aura. Katrina exuded nervousness. “Except?”

  Before she answered, Katrina chewed on her lip a second. “Oh, the corpse had a ring shadow. Well, not a shadow. More of a tan line indicating he wore a ring.”

  “Photo?”

  “Behind the report.”

  Alexi shuffled the papers until she found the photo. The clear outline of a ring showed on the middle finger of the corpse. The same finger she now wore her Turning Stone ring on. She rotated the ring’s stone toward her palm and looked at the top of her finger as she held the photo. Same outline. If Hugh identified the corpse as his suspect, it would be clear to her they had a shifter lying dead in the morgue. “Did you find anything else unusual about him?”

  Before Katrina answered, a knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” Alexi called.

  Hugh started to enter, but stopped when he recognized she had a visitor. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had someone in here.”

  Alexi waved him in. “It’s okay.” Indicating Katrina, she made introductions. “Katrina is a former FBI forensic medical scientist who is now with our medical examiner’s department.”

  The tension in the room rose as Hugh stared at Katrina. Agitation spiked in her aura. Alexi scanned him and saw suspicion. Suddenly, Katrina started like someone had poked her in the back and bolted.

  “Gotta go,” she said as she pushed past Hugh. “I’m expected back at the morgue.”

  He stared after her as she ran from the office and then he closed the door and faced Alexi. “She’s the one from the alley last night. The one who helped the injured man then came back.”

  “Katrina? You must be mistaken. She’s one of Delaney’s protégées. Delaney vouched for her, and I’ve worked with her a year.”

  “So she’s a shifter?”

  “No. She’s Delaney’s FBI protégée. She brought me the coroner’s report on your suspect.”

  “It was her. I’m certain of it.”

  “The light’s dim in that alley. You just saw a blonde and think it’s Katrina.”

  Shaking his head, Hugh replied, “No way. I’m not blind. You said she’s from the M.E. office. Did she do the autopsy?”

  “Yep, and she found nothing unusual, except a ring line.” Alexi pushed the photo across the desk. “But we know who has the ring.”

  Ignoring the photo, he walked toward the door. “Let’s take a trip to the M.E. office. I want to ID the body.”

  “If I’m not mistaken you really want to check out Katrina.”

  Opening the door, he ushered Alexi out. “And so should you. I don’t think she’s everything you believe.”

  “Delaney’s word is good enough,” Alexi said as she locked the door.

  “If she’s innocent why did she bolt like a deer? Maybe she knew I was in the alley last night and maybe she didn’t. Regardless, why was she there?”

  Katrina wasn’t at the morgue when they arrived, so Alexi asked one of the other employees to find the body. After locating the corpse, she ordered the technician to leave.

  “It’s him.” Taking the coroner’s report from Alexi, Hugh flipped through the pages. “Not much to go on here. How long before we get fingerprints and DNA back?”

  “A couple of days.” Alexi closed the morgue drawer. “I could ask for a rush on it, if you want.”

  “I’m more intere
sted right now in what Ms. Romanovski might know about this.” He leaned against the stainless steel wall of drawers and crossed his arms over his chest. “You need to interrogate her, Alexi.”

  “If Delaney trusts her, why don’t you?”

  “Because I know what I saw.”

  He straightened and moved into her personal space. Resolve rolled from him. He wasn’t taking no for an answer. “If you won’t question her, then I’ll have to.”

  “She’s not a criminal, and I won’t treat her like one.”

  “You heard Eli last night. He suspects shifters are involved in this terrorism.” He tapped the morgue drawer holding the dead shifter. “This isn’t something we can let go.”

  “All right. I’ll talk to her when she comes back. In the meantime, you get out of here. If I find anything out, I’ll call you.”

  As he left, Alexi boosted herself onto one of the morgue tables to wait on Katrina and dialed Delaney on her cell phone. Delaney trusted Hugh and Katrina. Maybe she could give her some guidance.

  “I’ve got a dilemma,” she said when Delaney answered. “Hugh identified Katrina as the blonde in the alley.”

  “Katrina Romanovski?” Delaney asked.

  “He wants me to interrogate her. Thinks she’s involved with shifters.” A long pause came over the line. “Delaney? You still there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Crazy, huh?” Another long pause ensued, and Alexi said, “Is there something I need to know here?”

  “Katrina’s not a shifter, but she is a paranormal hunter.”

  “A what?”

  “A paranormal hunter. She hunts supernatural things.”

  “Like a ghost buster?”

  “More like Buffy the vampire slayer,” Delaney said. “Werewolves may also be on her radar.”

  “Are we on her radar?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. She doesn’t know about us . . . yet. But if Hugh keeps pressing his case against her that might change.”

  “So what should I do?”

  “She knows I know what she does, so I’d start by letting her know you’re in on her secret. Tell her since I’m retiring I’ve passed the baton on to you. I’ve had her back. Let her know you will, also.”

  The morgue door opened, and Katrina entered. “Gotta go. She’s here.”

  “Good luck,” Delaney said.

  Thumbing off her cell, Alexi slid from the morgue table and motioned to Katrina. “Got a minute?”

  “Captain Temple. What are you doing here?” Her gaze swung around the room, searching.

  “I wanted to talk about the report.” She held out the paperwork and then dropped it on the table next to her. She hated lying. Sucked at it, really. All those years of telling the truth to Baron because he always caught her in a lie, made her uncomfortable lying. “Actually, I wanted to ask you about the man in the alley.”

  “The one they brought in last night?”

  Red flooded the colored rings of Katrina’s aura. She was anxious. “Someone said they saw you at the scene of the crime. Were you there?”

  “Who? The man in your office earlier? He lied. I was at home last night eating pizza.” She angled her body toward the door as if ready to run and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

  A partial truth. Alexi could see that. “I know about you. Since Delaney is retiring she told me I should have your back.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Paranormal hunter,” Alexi said softly. “Is that what you were doing last night in the alley? I’m not saying you killed the man, just if you know anything about what happened you should share it with me. I can’t protect you if you don’t let me.”

  The stiffness went out of Katrina’s posture. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened. I stumbled on it. That man in the drawer was a werebear. A really big one. He attacked a man. By the time I got into the alley, the bear was dead.”

  “The man you helped out of the alley. Who was he?”

  “I don’t know. I took him back to my place, and when I went out to get medical supplies he left.”

  “Why didn’t you take him to the hospital?”

  Kat gave her an are-you-crazy look. “Hello. Paranormal hunter here. I couldn’t tell the medics he’d been mauled by a non-existent bear. Besides, he begged me not to. I thought it in my best interest, and the city’s, to figure out what he knew. He left before I could find anything out.”

  “Do you think he knows what he shot?”

  “No. He called it, it, like you would if you’d shot an animal.” She locked her gaze on Alexi. “So, now you know, what are you going to do?”

  “About what?”

  “Me. The investigation into the werebear.”

  “Keep your secret and watch your back. As for the werebear, since nothing unusual came up in the autopsy, no one needs to know about this man’s other side. But if the man who shot him contacts you, call me. He killed a man.”

  “He killed a monster,” Katrina said. “One less in the world who’s going to come after me or some other poor unsuspecting human.”

  “I understand how you feel, but justice has to be served.”

  Katrina gave an abrupt laugh. “I doubt that. I’ve seen things that would give you permanent hammertoes. When it comes to paranormals, justice comes at the end of a stake, a silver bullet, or some magical weapon.”

  Alexi reached under her jacket, pulled out her badge, and laid it on the table next to them. “Justice comes through this. I don’t want you to forget that. So don’t take matters into your hands. If you see something like this again, come to me. We’ll take care of it together.”

  “My way’s quicker and less complicated.”

  “For you maybe, but not for the people I serve. I don’t want you getting in the middle of something you don’t understand. There are forces out there bigger than you and me. Promise me you’ll come to me the next time you see something strange.”

  Katrina studied her. Alexi could see the questions swirling in her dark eyes and the determination curling around her aura. She was a strong woman. One who knew her own mind. Keeping Katrina Romanovski, paranormal huntress, under control and under wraps was going to be a big job. Darn Delaney for falling in love with Captain Williams and leaving her. Alexi needed her now, and her mentor would be gone. Just like Baron.

  “You’re different than Delaney, Captain Temple,” Katrina finally said. “I hope we’ll be friends.”

  Alexi thought about the destiny that lay before her and Rhys. Promised Ones. Destined to bring the warring factions of the Turning Stone Society to peace and, through that, the world. A friend might be nice, but she couldn’t put another mortal at risk, even one like Katrina.

  Giving Katrina a tentative smile, Alexi said, “You have no idea how different.”

  Chapter 5

  As Owen pushed open the door to Rogueman’s Bar, the din of voices and clink of glasses quieted as dozens of eyes fixed on him. The R&B from the sound system suddenly sounded loud in the absence of the undercurrent of the usual bar noise. He paused just inside the door, pulling his wiry frame to full height, and glared at the onslaught of shifter faces. One-by-one the customers returned to their beers and low-life deals.

  Their submissions attributed no doubt to the fact his mother, whom everyone feared nearly as much as they did Falhman, declared him off limits. The barkeeper, Johnny, gave him a welcoming smile. As the noise rose to its previous level, Owen made his way toward the only friendly face in the bar.

  “What’ll it be, mate?” Johnny asked as he set the glass he polished down on the counter top with a flourish.

  “Draft and some information.”

  “The draft I have. Information, not so much. But seeing as Sylvia made me yer personal body guar
d when yer here, I’ll do my best.”

  “I’d rather you did it because we’re friends.”

  Johnny placed Owen’s beer in front of him and rested his elbows on the shiny wood. “Ya miss him, don’t ya?”

  He took a swig of the golden liquid and wiped the foam off his mouth with a cocktail napkin. “I do. Even though Mom says Roc’s charm, his hypnotism trick, made me like him.”

  Taking another glass, Johnny rubbed it with a towel then held it to the light. “I’d not discount what ya felt, nor how I think Roc cared for ya. He liked ya. I could see that, and I’m pretty certain he hadn’t hypnotized himself.”

  “If he’d been forced to make me like him, why would he like me?”

  “Ya didn’t want anything from him but his friendship. People like Roc and Falhman, and if ya’ll forgive me for saying so, yer mother, don’t have many real friends.”

  “I don’t mind you telling the truth. Mom’s not an easy person to get on with.”

  “The thing about people like that is others either fear them or want something from them.”

  “What about you? Do you fear them or want something from them?”

  “Fear mostly.” He set down the glass. “If you ask me, she didn’t do ya any favors when she warned the lot of us off ya.”

  Owen thought about what Johnny said. Her protective nature labeled him as a momma’s boy, which had come in handy to cover his more reprehensible acts. People didn’t expect a momma’s boy to go around acting like a vigilante. “You don’t act like you fear me.”