But she figured this killer had to be human, or maybe another vampire who was on the bottom of the aristo food chain. And that wasn’t normal.
Argh, it was too hard to say with the information she had. Vampires weren't exactly the most popular people around, at least not in the lower classes. It could be anyone.
Except her; she knew she was innocent.
Whoever it was, though, Alice had never known someone with a grudge against vampires to succeed in acting on it like this, not just once but twice.
Time to leave. Alice shut and locked the door to the morgue behind her, and turned toward the stairs. Shrieking, she dropped the briefcase, belatedly watching as it fell to the floor with a clatter. A messenger had come up behind her, without making a sound. The young boy pulled the cap from his head and scuffed a shoe on the stone floor, a blush tinting his cheeks.
“Sorry to startle you, ma’am, but you’re needed.”
Slowly regaining her composure, Alice crouched down and picked up her bag. The contents rattled. Why was everyone sneaking up on her lately? Hoping nothing in the case was broken, she asked, “What for?”
“There’s been another body found. And they said to tell you this one’s different.”
*
This one’s different, all right, Alice thought.
She was in King’s Park again, although closer to the entrance this time. It was one of the more populated areas of the leisure park, and one more likely to be frequented by humans, if they were game enough to enter. Four guards ringed the site where the body had been dumped, on an open expanse of grass next to the gravel footpath that meandered through the park. To the south, large bluestone walls rose up to the sky, marking the boundary of the gardens. A pretty, twisted metal bench was perched on a slight rise to the north; if someone were to sit on it, they would have a perfect view of the deceased.
Long, flaxen hair trailed over wet grass in a discarded swathe of silk, crowning the dead woman in shining glory. Wet blades of grass glinted in the sunlight, fine strands of hair caught on their tips. The victim’s head was turned to the side, facing the rolling hill and metal bench, mauve eyes staring sightlessly ahead, cheekbones sharp and jutting. A mint-green nightgown clung to the supine figure, although it was open in the front, baring white breasts and jagged wounds to the blue sky.
“Was her gown opened by anyone here?” Alice asked.
All the other bodies had had their clothing set right somewhat, even though it had been put on after they were killed. Alice knelt down next to the cadaver, the woman’s pale skin even whiter in death. The spring sun was high overhead, warming the back of Alice’s black jacket. Thankfully, the daylight meant there were few vampires around, although there was a handful of human onlookers surrounding the dump site — those who’d been brave enough to enter the park to ogle a dead vampire. They’d probably talk about this for weeks afterward.
The captain shook her head. “This is getting out of control,” Dinya muttered.
Alice nodded. “Three bodies in two weeks.”
The knees of her black pants were growing damp quickly, absorbing water from the grass. It had rained earlier, although the body was dry. At least it gave them a time indicator. She examined the body; hands working automatically as she tilted the neck, lifted the wrist, inspected the fingernails. Frowning, she leaned down for a closer look. Was that powder? She turned the hand to catch the sunlight. Yes. She’d have to take a sample of it back at the morgue. The first body had had an unknown substance like this as well. The analysis had been inconclusive so far, although it was organic in nature.
“Multiple stab wounds,” Alice said to Dinya. She could count four without having to move the victim’s nightgown. There was no bruising on her chest, and the wounds were clean, indicating they may have been done while the vampire had been lying on her back, or standing upright. Facing her attacker. A nervous tingle spread throughout Alice’s veins. Was it the differences in the way this victim had been killed? The fact it was clearly more violent? Or maybe it was because this victim was a woman?
“Reckon it’s the same killer?” Dinya asked.
Alice sat back on her haunches. “I don’t know.”
But who else could it be?
Biting her lip, Alice reached forward and covered the victim’s chest with the torn nightgown. “I need to do a proper autopsy.”
“She died from staking, even I can tell you that.” Dinya was matter-of-fact, as always. Alice doubted the captain meant to question her abilities, despite the cynicism of the comment. Dinya’s hand moved to rest on her steel baton as she stared at the corpse, and Alice could swear she’d done it without thinking.
Alice stood. “Yes, but I need to see if there are any similarities to the other victims.”
“Like being dumped in a public place, poorly dressed?” One of the other guards snorted. Alice glared at the sniggering guard’s back.
“Yes, like that. But there are other things I can check. Have her delivered.” Alice grabbed her black leather bag. It now seemed like she wouldn’t be heading back to her apartment after all. Maybe she could convince Tal to feed her on the way home, after she finished the autopsy.
Dinya nodded, and barked orders at the other guards.
As Alice turned to leave the park, her footsteps crunching on the gravel path, she couldn’t stop the unease that spread through her.
Something was off here; she just couldn’t work out what it was.
Chapter 26
Skarva City
They’d made it.
Byrne found it hard to believe their little group had survived the journey to the city. Not because of the multitudes of bandits and highwaymen that were out there — they were around, but even they knew to leave a large were and a vampire alone — but because Fin was an even bigger pain in the ass when he was recovering from a beating than he was normally. Byrne hadn’t thought that could be possible, but he’d been proven wrong. Once the laudanum doses had been reduced, Hannah and Byrne had been regaled with descriptions of all the many and varied aches and pains that beset recovering humans.
And of course, all of these aches and pains were Byrne’s fault.
Not Fin’s.
Maybe the villagers.
But definitely Byrne’s.
Byrne now considered himself rather fortunate that he’d never really known what mortality was like. Even when he’d been held prisoner for a hundred years, chained in a dank and disgusting dungeon, he’d never known the types of agony that Fin was supposedly suffering. His friend certainly looked worse for wear, although his face was now a mottled mix of yellow and green bruises, rather than the impressive purple and red mess from the day of the attack.
Before they’d reached the border of Skarva, Fin had hauled himself upright in the back of the cart, which had swayed a little in protest. Byrne had been up the front, driving the buggy, with Baldy morosely plodding away along the dirt road. The horse still hadn’t forgiven Byrne for going completely bear. The goat, Betty, had followed behind, desperately trying to nibble on any greenery that survived the track’s traffic. She, at least, didn’t seem to care there was a human-shaped bear around.
Fin had muttered some drivel about good impressions, and Byrne had heard him opening packs and sorting through them. Hannah was paying no notice to all this, cooing and talking to the cub as if she regularly spent the day ignoring strange men. He’d erected the cover on the wagon, so that the poor little baby could get some shade from the sun. At least she seemed happy.
Byrne had turned to look back into the wagon and seen Fin checking himself out in a little hand mirror he’d stashed somewhere. When Byrne had politely questioned Fin’s vanity, the half-Graced man had explained that he’d needed to know how bad the injuries were, and if the damage to his pretty face would scare away the local children. The nitwit had then turned the little square mirror left, then right, squinting his bruised eyes and pursing his lips. He’d even s
cratched thoughtfully at the sandy colored beard that had set in over the past week.
“I think the green in the bruises really brings out the Hazel in my eyes,” the human had said.
Byrne snorted. It was all the response he’d been willing to give.
Fin was Fin.
Unfortunately.
Now they were on the outskirts of town. For the past hour, they’d driven by a series of farms, each with a slightly different crop that stretched out for miles away from the road. Currently, it was straggly wheat, the stalks and heads still green. A small house was perched near the edge of the road, its walls smeared with mud plaster, and the thatched roof in decent condition. The farmers seemed prosperous, which was a good indication of the town’s wealth.
The further they ventured toward Skarva, the more traffic appeared. Traders, families and farmers all made their way along the Skarva-Varsh Road, with carts, buggies, horses and donkeys. A couple of black lacquered carriages trundled by, their red curtains swaying behind closed glass windows. Byrne knew they contained vampires — the opulence and the daylight aversion were clues, but the icy smell of leech was the giveaway.
Soon the gravel surface gave way to a cobblestone pavement, and the cart followed the worn ruts toward the city’s busier precincts. Towering warehouses led on to smaller, sturdier structures of stone and brick. The wooden window frames and doors looked out onto the main thoroughfare, and the buildings’ porches were raised away from the street muck by a series of stairs. And, Byrne acknowledged, the streets were certainly mucky; they were caked with refuse from people’s chamber pots, crusted with the grime and dirt that cities tended to accumulate. He wrinkled his nose in protest. Sometimes, having an excellent sense of smell was more of a burden than blessing. Already, he missed the clean, crisp pine smell of the mountains.
Streets branched away from the main thoroughfare, and buildings clustered together more. Soon, houses and stores shared walls, with alleys and mews snaking away behind the structures, providing the occupants with access and some privacy. The one-story buildings became two, then three, and the wealth of the area became apparent as the stench of unwashed streets faded. The cool smell of vampires grew stronger.
Byrne slowed Baldy to a plodding walk as they reached a street market. Vendors lined both sides of the main road, with hawkers yelling their wares, and brightly colored awnings hanging over stall fronts. People from all over the continent were at the market, boasting of their one-of-a-kind products that couldn’t be found anywhere else. Except at any other city market.
“So where are we heading?” Byrne asked, keeping his eyes on the road. With her vampire senses she’d hear him, even through the background noise of the traders.
“Into the center of the city,” Hannah replied.
Byrne thought they were already there, but apparently not. “Can you direct me?”
Silence, then, “I think so.”
The were pulled the cart to a stop, to allow Hannah to climb out and head around to the front. Her fear of touch made her hesitant, carefully exiting the tray and then dodging around passersby. She was about to climb up next to Byrne when she froze, her arm outstretched, gloved hand gripping the edge of the seat’s rail.
Byrne looked over and spotted a stranger hovering close to Hannah. Too close. It was a hawker, greed tangible in the man’s eyes. The seller’s arm was extended, as if to grab Hannah, but Fin’s hand had closed around the hawker’s wrist. The vendor was glaring down at where Fin gripped him.
“Do not touch her.” Fin’s voice was low and mean, the words spoken like a native Skarvan.
Byrne reined in his surprise.
Fin was often silly, sometimes lascivious, usually jovial, and most of all, friendly. He was rarely nasty; Byrne often forgot the human had it in him to be anything other than pleasant. But Byrne realized then that Fin had adopted Hannah and the cub into their little group as much as Byrne had. They protected their own, even if that care was sometimes a little belated.
Ignoring Fin’s grip, the hawker flashed a winning smile at Hannah. He was missing an eyetooth, and his dusky skin had a slight coating of city dust, but his clothing was of good quality and he smelled clean. “But the pretty lady and her baby need to come to my store. Such wonderful blankets.”
“The pretty lady isn’t interested,” Fin countered. Byrne saw his friend’s hand tighten on the hawker’s arm. How the injured idiot had moved so fast, Byrne couldn’t say. Fin was meant to have been dying in a melodramatic fashion, after all.
The smile grew forced, the man persistent. “The pretty lady can speak for herself.”
Hannah gave herself a slight shake and then climbed into the cart. “And she isn’t interested.”
“But—”
Byrne could feel the stares beginning to bore into the back of his head. They were starting to draw unwanted attention. Turning the full brunt of his attention on the hawker, he growled menacingly. “No buts.”
And suddenly, the hawker had somewhere else to be.
Byrne nodded at Fin and shuffled across the bench, to allow Hannah space up next to him. She hunched closer to the edge of the seat, but gave Rena a gentle pat on her back as she did so.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Byrne asked, clicking Baldy into movement.
“Not letting him touch me.”
“I’d say thank Fin, but we don’t need his ego to get any bigger.”
Hannah gave a small snort.
“Now,” Byrne said. “Where to?”
Chapter 27
Pinton City
The new autopsy had provided Alice with much the same results as the others, although more data about vampire physiology was always useful. It was a shame someone had to die for her to obtain it. Three someones now.
The woman had been staked four times in comparison to the one stab wound the other victims had suffered, although only one wound had proved fatal. Three appeared to have been done post mortem. Which meant that she’d been staked once while alive, although hadn’t lived long after the wound had been inflicted.
From the recent results of the autopsies, Alice had determined a theory that the older the vampire, the more tolerance they gained to their ‘allergy’ to wood. Inflammation and necrosis would be greater around the wounds on younger victims, the opposite to humans, in terms of allergic reactions. Humans tended to suffer more extreme reactions with exposure and age. From the conditions of the wounds on her latest subject, the victim had been a reasonably old vampire.
Why the female had been stabbed more than the male victims, though, Alice couldn’t say. That was for the guards to work out. Like the killer’s other victims, she’d had sex prior to her death. It appeared to have been consensual; no tearing, bruising or damage. She’d also been killed elsewhere; Dinya’s report had said there hadn’t been much blood left on the ground after they removed the body. Alice set her clipboard down on the stone bench that ran along the three walls of the first half of the morgue. She rested her hands either side of the paperwork, palms pressed down onto the cold, smooth surface. Taking a deep breath, she mentally counted to three. She would help stop this murderer, somehow.
She pulled her jacket on and headed to the other side of the morgue, where she kept the processed cadavers. She’d had the guards put the new vampire body onto a gurney earlier, where she’d covered it in a purple body bag, and now rolled it over to the other corpses, positioning the table at the end of the neat row. The woman had been beautiful. She still was; even the pallor of death couldn’t change that. But something about her seemed familiar. Was it the silky tresses that were so pale they almost glowed in the dark, or the aristocratic tilt to her features?
Alice buttoned up the shroud, obscuring the dead woman’s legs, the wounds on her chest, then her face. Once the vampire was completely covered, Alice turned her attention to closing up the morgue. There wasn’t much more she could do today.
Tal had mentione
d something about having organized ‘samples’ for her research into the potential species of the murderer. Alice figured that she could drop by her friend’s apartment and see if she really had managed to obtain the semen she’d promised. Alice crinkled her nose. Back when she’d been at university, she hadn’t ever imagined that studying samples of sperm would be a requirement of her job as a coroner. Life was full of surprises.
With the morgue and her office locked up, Alice headed up the stairs and out through the reception area of the Guard House. She waved at Billie, who was staffing the front desk. The vampire city guard waved back at her, a small smile on her face. Alice wondered if the she was still feeling ill. Ever since she’d been Chosen, Billie had been plagued by nausea. She kept mostly to office duty as a result.
Outside, night had fallen. The air was slightly warmer than it had been in the morgue, but the wind had some bite. Buttoning her jacket up, Alice gripped the handle of her black medical bag tightly and began the trek to Tal’s. She stuck to Pittbrough Street, rather than take the short-cut, keeping under the glow of the sodium lamps. Public areas generally meant safer places for humans. Her leather shoes tapped softly on the bluestone sidewalk, which was swept and washed clean each evening by the shop owners. This part of town would become popular with the vampire elite in another hour or so, when it was fashionable to be seen out of doors.
Turning left down Marcus Drive, Alice took a deep breath, tasting the coal smoke on the breeze. The cold air burned on its way down to her lungs. The last of winter’s clutches were still evident in the evening drafts, but spring was here to stay. It was Alice’s favorite time of year, when the plants flowered, babies were born, and things just renewed. It was also the season Alice had first woken from her shell-shock, when she’d come to understand that life continued, with or without her.
Tal lived in an apartment complex near the corner of Marcus Drive and Court Road. It was a richer area than where Alice lived, but being a university professor paid better than being a coroner. Reaching the intersection, Alice quickly crossed the road, ducking between carriages that bowled along a little too quickly for safety. Tal’s building was made of a blue-gray stone, with white painted features. Its red steel door was shut and locked, so Alice drew out her spare key.
Bitten (The Graced Series Book 2) Page 11