“Fine, we’re looking at multiple perps,” Harroway amended. “What do we know about them?”
“They’re brutal and indiscriminate in their brutality,” Greta said. “Men and women of all different ages and ethnicities have been targeted.”
“They attack primarily at night. Their victims who survive always suffer amnesia, and they’re confident and skilled enough to attack in populated areas, causing mass casualties, without leaving witnesses,” I added.
“How do you know their victims suffer amnesia?” Harroway asked.
“I haven’t found a single witness who could give me a credible lead,” I said. “Have you?”
Meredith slumped minutely, no doubt thinking of her own memory loss.
“And there must have been a recent trigger for our perps to progress from one kill a night to this massacre,” she said, gesturing to the photos spread across Dr. Chunn’s desk.
“Or, where there was one perp killing one victim a night, there are now multiple perps killing multiple victims per night,” I said.
Jillian’s escape was the recent trigger. It had to be. And she’d obviously transformed multiple night bloods into Damned vampires since losing Nathan. My heart ached at the thought. Nathan and I hadn’t been the only night bloods in the city after all, but we might be now.
“None of that explains the problem we have with the footprints,” Harroway grumbled.
“We have a footprint problem?” I asked.
Greta nodded. “We have several molds from animal tracks in the park,” she said, “but they don’t lead anywhere. It’s as if the animals leaving those tracks just vanished into thin air.”
I bit my lip. Telling them that the perps could fly—or at least jump so far and high that the difference between jumping and flying seemed inconsequential—without any corroboration probably wasn’t wise. Besides, the real question wasn’t how they left the scene but rather where they went once they left. Where did a group of massive, heart-eating monsters hide during the day in a city as densely populated as New York City?
Dominic had built an entire city of vampires beneath New York City where hundreds of his kind could live in secret from the human population, but he would know if the Damned were hiding in his own coven, wouldn’t he?
Dr. Chunn nodded, and it took me a moment to come back to the conversation. She wasn’t answering my unspoken question. She was agreeing with Greta. “Dr. Leander’s notes indicate that the tracks seem to disappear as well. He notes that the perps may have jumped or climbed into a nearby tree and suggests we revisit the tree trunks to study any trace evidence that may have transferred on their bark.”
Harroway nodded. “Will do.”
Greta frowned, not as convinced. “The lowest branches on those trees are well over twenty feet high. Jumping that height on a whim would be impossible. If they fled through the trees, they must have had a premeditated exit plan, but the random brutality and rage of these murders indicate a disorganized mind who kills on opportunity, not planning. It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t, not for a person,” Harroway said. He clenched his hands into fists and pounded the arms of his chair absently. “Working from the perp’s profile won’t work if it’s an animal. We can’t predict its behavior if it doesn’t have a motive to kill beyond pure instinct or survival.”
“They’re bites, for sure, but not necessarily animal bites,” Greta said. Her eyes flicked to mine, and I stifled a smile. She’d caught the subtext in my article. “Which is why I needed Dr. Leander here today.”
I lifted my hands in mock surrender. “I’m not the one who brought him in on the case.”
“Not that I know Dr. Leander or have any previous experience with his work, but from the level of detail and insight of his notes, personally, I’m impressed with his skills and perception,” Dr. Chunn stated. “One of the details I found interesting was his note here.” She pointed to another photo and set of margin notes. “He noticed something sprinkled over the asphalt, something metallic that wasn’t organic to the area.”
Greta leaned closer to the photo and frowned. “Are those fish scales?”
I clenched my hands into fists, remembering the impenetrable hardness of Nathan’s skin when he’d been Damned; reptilian-like scales had covered his entire body.
“I don’t know about fish, but they certainly appear to be some sort of scales,” Dr. Chunn confirmed. “They’re burnt, some of them completely charred, so it’s difficult to determine. I’ve sent samples to a wildlife forensic DNA lab for testing. By tomorrow, we might have a better understanding of the creature we’re dealing with.”
Harroway raised his eyebrows. “We didn’t find fish scales at any of the other scenes. Maybe the cases aren’t related after all.”
“Look at the size of this sample,” Greta said, jabbing the photo with her finger. A penny was in the photo for perspective, and the little fleck of the fish scale was smaller than Lincoln’s eye. “We never would have found something like that in the rubble.”
“Dr. Leander did,” Harroway pointed out.
“Now that you know what to look for, can you search for remnants of scales at previous scenes for comparison? If you find anything, we could potentially link the cases with hard evidence,” I suggested.
Harroway snorted. “It’s been weeks. If scales were at those scenes before, they’ve been contaminated to hell and back by now.”
“Do you still have photos of the scenes from those previous cases?” Meredith asked.
Greta nodded. “Of course.”
“Well, the sites might be contaminated, but the photos haven’t changed. I have software that can blow up photos and heighten their resolution,” Meredith said. “If the scales are there, I might be able to find them in the crime-scene photography.”
Greta glanced at me as if for confirmation.
I nodded. “Meredith’s my go-to tech girl, always has been. If you’re willing to share the evidence, she can do whatever you need her to do with it.”
“If you’re worried about the originals, you can keep them. I just need copies on a USB,” she said.
“Have you ever worked with the department before in this capacity?” Harroway asked, his expression pinched.
She shook her head. “No, never.”
“You’ll have to sign a confidentiality agreement,” Greta said. “Anything we give you to use for the investigation is for investigative purposes only.”
“I have my own camera to use for the newspaper, and I pride myself on my own photography. I wouldn’t use yours—I wouldn’t want to use yours—if that’s what you’re implying.”
“I’m not implying a damn thing,” Greta said, smiling, “Just informing you of the process.”
Meredith nodded. “Understood. And I’m glad to help. These psychos need to be stopped.”
Harroway nodded. “Amen to that.”
“Doc, did you find anything else on the victims, any residue that might indicate a location other than the park?” I asked, contemplating the possibility of the Damned hiding within Dominic’s coven in the sewers.
Dr. Chunn cocked her head. “Not that I saw from a visual examination, but I’m waiting on test results from swabs of the victims’ skin, wounds, and fingernails. I should have those results tomorrow as well.”
I nodded. “Great. Thank you.”
Greta raised her eyebrows. “Is there a residue in particular that you’re expecting to find on the victims?”
I shrugged. If I mentioned my suspicion, Greta and her team would investigate the sewer systems. They’d risk their lives facing Dominic’s coven, and the Damned might not even be there.
Greta pinned me with a look. “If these attacks are anything like last time, these bastards will attack again tonight and every night until we stop them, and we don’t have any leads. If you’ve got something, anything, let’s hear it.”
I met her hardened gaze with one of my own. What she didn’t realize, what no one realized, was that even w
ith all the evidence laid out in front of them, even with the proof of their existence before their very eyes, they still might not comprehend the reality that vampires existed. And not only did they exist, they weren’t even the most dangerous creature in the night.
My breath caught as I realized something I’d never considered before now. When Dr. Chunn’s scale samples returned, she would discover an unexplainable truth about the creatures we were hunting, but if she didn’t know that there were two unexplainable creatures roaming the shadows of this city, Dominic’s vampires might take the fall for Jillian’s Damned and their slaughter.
“Well?” Harroway prodded.
Greta glared at him. She’d been trying to smoke me out with silence.
“There is one thing.” I reached into my leather satchel and pulled out the little vial of Dominic’s blood that I usually wore as a charm around my neck.
Dominic’s blood was a deep crimson, nearly black, and shimmered inside the engraved glass charm. I handed the vial to Dr. Chunn, and the moment the charm left my fingers, I felt trapped in a snare of my own design.
Technically, I wasn’t exposing his existence to the public with one of my articles, so I wasn’t breaking my promise. But I knew Dominic wouldn’t see the technicalities of my actions. He wouldn’t see that I was actually protecting him, distancing him and his coven from the real monsters destroying this city. No matter my intentions, Dominic would surely see my actions as a betrayal. I knew that, and I was giving her his blood anyway.
Dr. Chunn took the charm from my hand and studied it. “What is this?”
I swallowed my fear. “Blood. I need you to run a DNA test and compare it to the scales found at the scene.”
“Whose blood is it?” Dr. Chunn asked.
“We’re about to find out.”
Harroway met my eyes for the first time that morning and pinned me with his frustration. “That’s a bullshit answer, DiRocco, and you know it.”
“To prove the truth to you, we need this DNA test.” I turned to Greta. “You won’t believe me otherwise.”
“More bullshit,” Harroway spat. He turned to Greta, too. “I say we take her downtown till she squeals. I say—”
“Let it go, Harroway,” Greta interrupted. She eyed the two of us. “Whatever you two are arguing about, I don’t want to know. I just want it fixed.”
“There’s nothing that needs fixing. Harroway and I said some things we didn’t mean at yesterday’s crime scene, but we’re good now.”
Harroway snorted. “Speak for yourself.”
“I am.”
He glared at me, cutting me more with his silence than he ever had with words.
“I said that I don’t want to know,” Greta insisted. “Just fix it. Am I clear?”
“Crystal,” I said.
Harroway nodded curtly, but he broke eye contact, keeping his gaze locked on the wall behind Greta to avoid both of us.
Greta shook her head and focused on the reliable, emotionally mature Dr. Chunn. “Run the tests, please, Susanna.”
“You got it,” Dr. Chunn said. “I’ll try to turn it around in time for tomorrow, but with such late notice, I can’t make any promises.”
Greta pointed her finger at me. “If this doesn’t shed a scrap of light on this case, I’m listening to Harroway’s advice, got it?”
“Dear God, anything but that,” I said snarkily, but she didn’t understand that even when she had all the facts, nothing would shed light on this case. If anything, the truth would just lead us all deeper into the darkness.
Chapter 11
Nathan watched as I smeared human blood in the crevice where the wall met the floor, across the doorframe, and under every window ledge. The three vials Sevris had given me didn’t contain much in terms of volume. Although I hit the main entry points—front door and bedroom windows—I needed more for the living room bay window, the bathroom skylight, and the rooftop access. I’d deliberately chosen this apartment for its windows and daily sunbaths, as per Keagan’s advice, but all those windows were potential thresholds for a vampire to cross. Keagan had assured me that more windows and access to sunlight were better than physical barriers. Walls were a false sense of security; although I couldn’t see a vampire through them, vampires could certainly still sense me, and walls, unlike sunlight, wouldn’t stop them.
“Whose blood is that?”
I jerked mid-smear, surprised by Nathan’s voice. He’d spoken so seldom over the past week that I was growing accustomed to the yawning silence. I glanced over my shoulder. He was picking at his cuticles, which were chapped and scabbed from habitual worrying, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring fixedly at the crevice between the wall and the floor beneath the doorframe.
He was staring at the smeared blood.
“I don’t know,” I said cautiously.
I emptied the last of my fourth vial and stood. I knew Nathan was in pain. I knew he was tormented by everything he’d experienced. But I’d thought that everything he was tormented by was in the past. Judging by his tightly corded forearms as he flexed his fists and the set of his clenched jaw, he was tormented by the present, by something here and now in this room.
His eyes were still fixated on the blood.
“I know how you feel,” I whispered.
Nathan’s eyes jerked up and met mine.
I swallowed, remembering the driving, relentless thirst that had been Jillian’s bloodlust, the thirst I’d mistaken for my own. “It’s consuming and confusing and disgusting, and it’s the dual emotions—the craving and self-disgust—that drives you insane.”
Nathan frowned. “Are you talking about being addicted to Percocet?”
I frowned back at him. “No, I was referring to the blood.” I held up the empty vial in my hand.
Nathan’s expression hardened. His eyes narrowed on the vial and then at me, and my breath caught at the pain in his gaze. “You don’t know shit.”
I crossed my arms. “I know more than you think I know. I’m right here. Whenever you’re ready to share, I’m here to listen. After everything I’ve seen and been through, I can—”
“Everything you’ve seen and been through,” Nathan scoffed. “What about everything I’ve done?”
“You weren’t yourself,” I whispered, taken aback by the heat of his rage. “No one blames you.”
He laughed, and the sound was bitter and grating and awful. “Of course, no one blames me. No one remembers me.”
“I remember you, and I don’t blame you.”
“I blame me! You want to tell Lydia Bowser’s parents, Alba Dunbar, Logan McDunnell, and Riley Montgomery’s family that I wasn’t myself when I clawed their loved ones to pieces and ate their hearts? You think that makes what I’ve done okay?” Nathan stepped forward, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
My brother would never hurt me—not as himself, anyway—but in that moment, I had to physically stop myself from stepping back.
He didn’t wait for my reply.
“I’m a murderer, Cassidy,” he growled.
“Don’t do this to yourself. You’re not—”
“I murdered Lydia, John and Priscilla Dunbar, the McDunnell brothers, and Riley Montgomery. I tried to murder Rowens, Bex, Walker, and Rene. Jesus, I tried to murder you! You can spin the facts however you want, but the truth is that I would have torn you to shreds, eaten your heart, and relished the taste of your blood. I’m a murderer.”
I slammed my fist on the kitchen countertop. “That’s enough. I won’t stand here and listen to you whine over something you couldn’t control. You are not a murderer. The monster that Jillian made was a murderer, but that monster wasn’t you!”
“I sought out Jillian to stop the monsters, but I became one instead. That was my choice. I have to live with that and atone for the wrongs that choice wrought.”
“You never could have known what would happen, the creature you would become, when you made that choice.”
�
��We never do,” Nathan said. “If we knew the consequences of our actions in advance, how many choices would we make differently?”
“Every choice.” I held up the empty glass vials in my hands and shook them at him. “You think I want to smear human blood around the perimeter of my apartment? It’s unsanitary and disgusting and inhuman, but it’s a countermeasure to protect us from the vampires.”
He crossed his arms. “Whose blood is it?”
I blinked. “Does that matter?”
Nathan stared at me, waiting.
“I don’t know whose blood it is,” I admitted.
“Where did you get it?”
“I won’t apologize for doing what’s necessary to keep us safe,” I hissed.
“If you got that blood where I think you got it, someone was attacked to keep us safe. I’d rather stay in danger, and the sister I knew and respected would agree with me.” Nathan turned away before I could respond and slammed his bedroom door behind him.
He was right; the sister he knew four weeks ago, before his disappearance, might have scorned a gift from the vampires. Now, questioning whose blood I was holding hadn’t even crossed my mind. I wasn’t the same person I’d been before his disappearance. The grief of losing him, the nightmare of finding him, and the struggle to bring him back had forged the person I’d become, a person who knew that, to survive the coming storm, we’d have to do a lot worse than smear a few vials of blood around the perimeter of the apartment.
I blew out my breath and decided that the moral battle with my brother could be waged another day, a day when I’d had more than three hours of sleep in twenty-nine hours. I glanced at the clock and groaned. Make that thirty-one hours.
I washed and disposed of the empty vials, scrubbed my hands clean, and was just about to finally seek the comfort and oblivion of my bed when my phone buzzed.
No! I thought, but against every instinct I had shouting at me to ignore my phone in favor of my pillow, I answered the call. The moment I glanced at the screen and saw “Supervisory Special Agent Harold Rowens” in block letters blinking at me, I knew going to bed was a lost dream.
I swiped my thumb across the screen. “My story ran this morning. What took you so long?” I teased.
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