The Witchkin Murders

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  “Is this all? I ordered a full autopsy.”

  Angie smiled. “No, it’s not all,” she said. “There is a notation here for me to consult with the pathologist. He didn’t want to file a report before talking to me. No time like the present.” She stood and they were on their way again, this time taking the stairs down into the basement.

  Putting the actual autopsy rooms in the basement seemed like a no-brainer. At the same time, Kayla had always thought it felt like dropping down into hell. Facing no windows and cold lighting, not to mention all the stainless-steel tables and instruments, she wondered how people could come to work every day without a whole lot of antidepressant medicine.

  As they came through the fire door at the bottom of the stairs, they heard merry laughter echoing down the cavernous hallway.

  “I know that this is a workplace and that people here are not ghouls, but laughter feels a whole lot like taunting the dead. I wonder if they ever worry about ghost revenge,” Kayla said in a low voice more in keeping with their location.

  “Squeamish?” Angie asked one eyebrow raised.

  “Let’s just say Magicfall has given me a new respect for the paranormal, fairytales, and things that go bump in the night.”

  “Well, we haven’t had any hauntings yet,” replied Angie with a dismissive wave.

  “Yet,” Ray added.

  “Yet,” Angie said in happy agreement. “It would certainly liven up the place, wouldn’t it? No pun intended.”

  “Yes, it was,” said Ray, shaking his head. “And a bad one at that.”

  “Just goes to show the dead have a better sense of humor than you do,” she said.

  Kayla chuckled despite herself.

  “You’re just encouraging her,” Ray said.

  “She doesn’t need encouragement from me,” Kayla said.

  “Hmph.”

  “Very articulate of you,” Kayla said.

  “I forgot what a pain in the ass you are.”

  “See what my leaving did? It saved your ass from years of abuse.”

  As soon as she said the words, Kayla wished she could take them back. She and Ray were finally having an easy moment, and here she had to remind him that she’d walked out on him.

  All the same she didn’t expect his reaction. He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. They were practically nose-to-nose as he glared at her.

  “There was nothing good about you leaving,” he said, giving her a little shake to punctuate the word nothing. “These last four years have been hell because you left, so don’t go pretending there’s some sort of silver lining in this. There isn’t. It’s been one big black hole.”

  He released her arm and spun away, stomping down the hall to catch up with Angie.

  Kayla stood watching him. Despite the anger in his words, she felt an odd thrill of hope. His words, the depth of his antagonism and anger—these told her more than anything else how much he had cared for her and maybe still did. Maybe they did have a chance to be friends again. Maybe there was a world in which she didn’t have to exist alone.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 16

  Ray

  RAY SEETHED. KAYLA’S lighthearted jest had struck him hard. Especially after a moment when everything seemed like it used to be. Her joke had been a kick to his chest. Still, he shouldn’t have grabbed her. If he wasn’t careful he’d fuck up and chase her off again. That was the last thing in the world he wanted.

  “What was that about?” Angie asked.

  The woman had eyes in the back of her head. “Nothing you need to worry about.” Which was as close as he could get to “none of your business” without being completely rude.

  “I’m not worried,” Angie said turning a corner down a side hallway. “But you’ve got a look like a bear with a sore foot. Maybe I can help you with the thorn in it. Or maybe I can help you take your head out of your ass if that’s what your problem is.”

  Ray snorted. “I’d say my head is most definitely up my ass, but I don’t think you’re getting it out of there anytime soon.”

  “You know what they say, acknowledging you have a problem is your first step to solving it.”

  “My problem is Kayla,” he muttered. “And I know how to solve it. I just have to keep from giving her any reason to leave.”

  Angie eyed him sideways. “You do realize you didn’t make her leave?”

  “Yes, I did,” Ray said with rock-hard certainty. Sure, she’d become a shifter, but she hadn’t felt she could trust him with what happened to her. She had thought he would tell her to fuck off. She’d thought he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with her, so she’d left so that she wouldn’t have to go through the hell of hearing it from his own lips. The worst part was he wasn’t so sure she was wrong.

  On the Island when she had risen up out of the water, at first he thought she was some kind of water dragon. She looked like she could tear a man in half with hardly a thought. When she brought the kids to shore, he realized who it must be and had been flooded with relief that she was still alive, fascination at her other form, and no small amount of horror. He’d quickly gotten over it, but not before she dove back into the water and disappeared, leaving him behind.

  Again.

  As soon as he could collect the box, he’d retrieved their boat and headed back to her house. And then he had waited.

  Those hours until she reappeared again were the worst he could remember in a long time. Agonizing hours when he wondered if she’d come back at all. He’d been confronted by the realization that if he wanted her around, he was going to have to be careful how he dealt with her—if she came back.

  And he did definitely want her around.

  He didn’t let himself think about the fact that he wanted her wrapped around him, and under him, and on top of him. He couldn’t let her know that. If that cat escaped the bag, they’d never get back to their friendship, which he wanted above all else. If she knew how he felt, she’d avoid him, or God forbid, pity him. And even worse than that, she’d walk on eggshells around him, and he couldn’t tolerate that.

  They’d always shared a kind of brutal honesty with each other. He valued that, knowing that no matter what, she wouldn’t lie to him. She never had, not even when the truth hurt or send him skyrocketing into rage. She hadn’t even lied about becoming a shifter. She’d chosen to leave rather than tell him.

  And now he was lying to her.

  He’d had the perfect opening to tell her about becoming a witch when she’d come back to the house. But the words had caught in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. The stupidest part was that of everybody he knew, she was the least likely to shun him because of his power.

  And yet he couldn’t bring himself to confess it. He couldn’t risk rocking the boat until he was sure that he and Kayla were back on even ground. His witch powers probably wouldn’t drive her off, but he wasn’t willing to chance their newly reborn relationship with yet another complication. He’d wait until things settled and they had time to really talk.

  “Is this about your friendship? Or is there more to it?” Angie asked astutely.

  Ray glanced back at Kayla who trailed behind, her brows furrowed as she watched him. He faced forward again.

  When she had returned home, this morning, he’d managed not to strangle her or kiss her. He’d kept himself tightly under wraps, wanting to show that he accepted her other form.

  All morning they’d found their old rhythm as they worked the case. It was almost as if those last four years without her had never passed. Had his outburst ruined that progress?

  “That bad, huh?” Angie said when he didn’t answer.

  “Worse.”

  “You can always apologize.”

  “What makes you think I’m the one
who needs to apologize?”

  Angie’s brows rose. “Aren’t you?”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t explain why you think so.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Just because I work with dead people doesn’t mean I’m blind to the living. Anyway, you and Reese made a good team. Try not to piss her off too much. Be nice to see her around more.”

  “I’m trying,” he muttered. But one thing was damned sure—he needed to try harder.

  THEY CAME TO A set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Angie waved her hand in front of a blue ceramic tile set into the wall. Its center lit with a stylized caduceus, with the two snakes wrapped around the stem of justice scales rather than a staff. The doors opened inward. Angie motioned for Ray to go inside, waiting until Kayla had also passed through the doors before she followed.

  Ray had been to the new morgue more times than he could count. This would be Kayla’s first visit to the facilities built after Magicfall. He looked around, trying to see the place with fresh eyes.

  The room was rectangular with a wall of square doors stacked three high on one end. Storage for the bodies. Five wheeled stainless-steel gurneys marched down the middle, each with drains and catch basins attached. Each had a cart parked at its foot, with a scale hanging just above.

  The floor was sealed cement, the walls covered in easy-to-clean fiberglass panels. Along the walls marched cabinets and drawers full of instruments beside two stainless-steel washing stations. A recording system dangled from the ceiling with hinged arms that could be pulled over any particular table.

  A wash of antiseptic and death filled the air. Though many cops rubbed a little VapoRub under their noses before entering the dissection room, Ray believed he ought to feel some of the horror of the murders he was trying to solve. The smell was nothing compared to what the victims had suffered.

  Three of the tables were occupied, with two pathologists bending shoulder to shoulder over the one closest. As the door opened, they turned, both looking relieved to see Angie.

  “Dr. Cordone,” the older one said, motioning eagerly with his hand. “Come look at this.”

  Angie tied on a mask and slid on a pair of nitrile gloves, then donned a pair of safety glasses. Ray and Kayla followed her as she went to stand on the opposite side of the table from the pathologists.

  “What is it?”

  This was the first time Ray had seen the bodies except for the pictures Kayla had taken with her phone. The first appeared to be a shifter killed partway through the shift. From the looks of it, he was some sort of big cat, maybe a cougar or a leopard. He’d been positioned on his back, but the contortion of the shift meant they’d had to strap him to the table to keep his body stable for the autopsy.

  The pathologists had cut him open with a Y-shaped incision and folded back the skin of his chest. His organs had been removed.

  “Look here inside,” the older one said, pointing into the chest cavity. “Can you see it?”

  Angie bent to peer closer.

  “There’s some sort of residue,” she said. She looked up. “Did you test it, Dr. Martin?”

  Dr. Martin shook his head. “I thought it might be evidence of a magic spell. I took pictures and sent them over to the magic lab. I didn’t want to tamper with it in case they want to investigate it intact.” He sounded worried that he’d not done the right thing.

  Angie looked again. “You could be right. Good decision,” she said. “Email me copies of the photos immediately. Is that why you wanted to see me?”

  The younger of the two men, whose receding hair and skinny body made him look a lot like the corpses he worked on, shook his head.

  “No. I mean yes, but there’s more. Over here.” He sounded practically giddy with excitement. As if he’d discovered the lost treasure of the Incas.

  Ray wanted a look at the inside of the shifter corpse himself, but turned to follow the others. He’d take a look before they left.

  This body was a nymph of some kind. Her green-black hair had been washed clean and coiled into a pillow beneath her head. She showed no signs of wounds, but for a giant hole in her forehead. Her stomach lumped grotesquely.

  “Was she pregnant?” Kayla asked.

  “That’s what I thought, too,” said the younger of the two pathologists. “But look.” He switched on an x-ray lightbox, several films already in place.

  “Definitely not pregnant,” Angie said.

  Even Ray could see that. The interior of the nymph’s swollen stomach appeared to be a solid ball of white.

  “What is that?”

  “That’s just the thing,” said Dr. Martin. “We don’t get anything off x-rays, ultrasound, a CT scan, or an MRI. We didn’t want to risk contamination if cutting into the abdomen triggered some sort of malignant spell.”

  “It’s fairly soft,” said the other pathologist. He pressed on the top of her belly, and his mouth dropped open. “Wait—it’s gone hard.”

  Angie reached over and felt all around it. “No indents that I can feel either, and it’s certainly not pliable.” Her brows drew together. “Let’s get a technomage in,” she said. “I think it would be a good idea to get a witch, as well. Dr. Aiken,” she said addressing the younger pathologist. “Remove the other bodies immediately. Dr. Martin, send your reports and the photographs to me immediately and evacuate. I’ll call in a technomage, and track down a witch. Dr. Aiken, hit the evacuation alarm on the way out. Dangerous magic protocol.” She pointed at Ray and Kayla. “You two, out.”

  Before either of them could ask what the hell was going on, Angie picked up the wall phone and typed in a number. It connected after only a few seconds.

  “Marta, this is Dr. Cordone. I’m down in lab seven. I need your best technomage stat. It can’t wait.” She paused a moment. “Good. We’ll be here.”

  She hung up and immediately punched in another number. This time it took longer for an answer.

  “This is Dr. Angie Cordone,” she said in a clipped voice. “I’m the coroner. I have a couple of cases on my table that I need witch expertise as soon as possible. It’s a level-two emergency situation. Can you send me someone?” She rattled off a telephone number and hung up.

  “What are you two still doing here?” she demanded. “This is—” The phone rang. She grabbed it. “Cordone, here.”

  She listened and then nodded once. “Please do. I don’t like the look of this.”

  Dr. Aiken and Dr. Martin had moved the two bodies to gurneys and were wheeling them out. Aiken paused by a row of colored tiles on the wall just outside the door, tapping the yellow one. Immediately a pulsing alarm started beeping. Angie made shooing gestures for Kayla and Ray to leave as a line of blue lights blinked along the center of the hallway floor. More flashed rapidly on the ceiling and then began a trailing pattern to guide people to the exit.

  “What’s going on?” Kayla asked over her shoulder.

  “We’ve had incidents over the years where a spell has detonated in the labs. Given that blood sacrifice is involved in this case, combined with the change in the nymph’s body, we can’t take chances. Safer to evacuate and get experts in to handle it. Spell could go off and endanger everyone.”

  Kayla turned, putting her hands on her hips, a stubborn expression settling on her face. “We can’t just leave you here.”

  Ray took her arm, willing to drag her out if he had to. “We’ll only be in the way.”

  She dug her heels in. “I should stay in case they need me.”

  She meant in her other form. The idea of her staying made Ray’s stomach turn, but he swallowed the completely rational and violent surge of fear and focused on logic. “What they need is a technomage and a witch, both of whom are on the way,” he said. “We’ll just be in the way.” If she stayed, he stayed.

  “I have no idea what you’re ta
lking about, but you can argue outside,” Angie said, though she was too intelligent not to wonder why Kayla thought she could help with a magic situation. “Now move it.”

  A stream of employees walked quickly past toward the exit. Ray did his best not to throw Kayla over his shoulder neanderthal style and haul her ass to safety. She bit her upper lip, then finally gave a reluctant nod and allowed him to tug her along after the departing employees. Not bothering to hide his exhale of relief, Ray urged Kayla to go faster as they made their escape.

  The exit into the parking garage was closed, with everybody leaving through two broad emergency doors on either side of the spindle. People hustled down the stairs and outside. Security personal directed them to keep moving toward Providence Park.

  Ray pulled Kayla out of the line, ignoring the calls of the security guards. He took out his badge and flashed it over his shoulder and continued. They’d left the box of witchkin murder info in the car, and he wanted to get it in case the place went under extended quarantine. After showing the badge, nobody tried to stop them.

  They went around to the entrance for the garage, which was now blocked by a series of four-foot-tall steel bollards. At the car, he grabbed the box while Kayla dug in her pack and donned a rain suit before shouldering her backpack. Ray slammed the door and snagged her hand again, breaking into a jog.

  Once outside they headed in the direction of the park, joining the flow of people streaming out of the building. All four wings were being evacuated. Ray kept Kayla’s hand clasped in his. The touch of her skin against his electrified him. Just from touching her hand. He told himself to let go. This was a road he couldn’t go down. But then again, with all the people, they could get separated. Worse, she could turn around and return to the lab.

  He firmed his hold on her hand, congratulating himself on the sensibility of his argument. Self-serving it might be, but also true.

  Once they reached the park, they looked back in the direction they’d come. Ray wish to hell he’d stopped to retrieve his phone so that he could call Angie.