Eternal Reign

by Melody Johnson

  Harroway stood. “I’m on it,” he said and left the room.

  When the door closed behind him, Greta honed her focus on me. “Harroway doesn’t remember the attack—not in detail, like I do. His memories are vague and fuzzy. Whatever force is influencing our witnesses is influencing our department, too.”

  “Remember when I wrote my original animal-attack article four weeks ago?” I asked. “I had recorded testimony from you concerning the bites, but the next day, you didn’t remember giving that testimony, even when confronted with the recording.”

  Greta crossed her arms. “How could I forget? You caught evidence everyone missed, even the previous medical examiner. Even me.”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t miss anything. I just remembered what everyone forgot.”

  Rowens opened his mouth, and I braced myself—God only knew what he would say, with his new knowledge of vampires, night bloods, and the Damned—when the door whipped open, and Dr. Chunn, whole and healthy, if winded, barged into her own office.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath as if she’d sprinted here from across the hospital. “I apologize for my tardiness, but I couldn’t present you with the data I found until I’d retested some of my findings.”

  Greta raised her eyebrows. “Was something wrong with the first round of data?”

  Dr. Chunn shook her head. “I would have sworn something was wrong, but no, my second tests came back consistent with my original findings.” She blinked. “Which only creates more problems instead of solving the ones we already have.”

  “Sounds par for the course on this investigation,” Greta grumbled.

  “Harroway wanted me to tell you that we should proceed without him, that he’s confirming the whereabouts of your partnering offices’ staff?” Dr. Chunn said, obviously relaying the message, but not quite understanding its implication.

  Greta nodded. “By all means, please proceed. Where should we start?”

  “Well, I—” Dr. Chunn looked up from behind her stack of files and paperwork at the three of us and hesitated when her eyes met Rowens.

  “Sorry, Doc, we have an additional expert on this case, if that’s all right,” I said by way of introduction. “Dr. Chunn, this is Supervisory Special Agent Rowens. He’s taking a medical leave of absence from the FBI and graciously decided to offer his expertise on our investigation. He spearheaded the similar case in Erin, New York, last week.”

  “I remember,” Dr. Chunn said neutrally. She shook his hand. “Pleased to see you again, Harold, although I’m sorry for the circumstances. And your injury.”

  “A pleasure to see you again as well, Susanna,” Rowens said, and his craggy, typically stony expression lightened. I blinked, wondering when Rowens had learned to smile.

  Dr. Chunn blushed prettily from his regard, and I eyed the two of them curiously.

  Dr. Chunn cleared her throat and looked around at our small group. “Should we wait for Dr. Leander and Miss Drake?”

  Greta sighed. “No. Please proceed without them as well. The creatures out there killing people certainly won’t wait, so neither can we.”

  Dr. Chunn nodded. “Then let’s start with something that, if it doesn’t make complete sense, at least isn’t as crazy as some of my other findings.”

  Greta gestured to files that Dr. Chunn had dropped in three towering stacks on her desk. “By all means.”

  “I’ve reviewed Miss Drake’s findings, and they coincide with my own. Although I can’t corroborate the evidence found in her photos with hard samples from last week’s crime scenes, last night’s soil samples have the same scale-like fragments as Monday’s crime scene. And traces of those scale-like fragments were found beneath a majority of the victims’ fingernails.”

  Greta raised her eyebrows. “Beneath their fingernails? So the victims are scraping their fingernails through the ground at each crime scene?”

  “Fragments beneath fingernails typically indicate defensive wounds. We usually find skin and blood. Dirt and grime are common, too,” Dr. Chunn explained, “but considering the manner in which these victims were attacked, I’m leaning toward defensive wounds.”

  “What exactly are the scales? Where are they coming from?” Greta asked.

  I exchanged a quick glance with Rowens. Maybe the gleam of the creatures’ obsidian scales hadn’t been as obvious last night as I’d thought, even under the glow of moonlight and crime-scene spotlights.

  Or maybe Greta hadn’t remembered as much as she thought she did.

  “That’s where the facts start to sound like fiction,” Dr. Chunn said with a hefty sigh. “The scales aren’t reptilian or fish, like you would expect. They’re mammal.”

  “What mammal has scales?” Greta asked.

  “Cursory research indicates that the pangolin is the only mammal on earth with scales.”

  Greta raised her eyebrows. “Pangolin?”

  “Indigenous to Asia and Africa, it’s nocturnal and resembles an anteater with scales.” Dr. Chunn handed Greta a printed photo from a web search. The animals on the page were adorable, with long snouts and small, tucked ears. Granted, they had long claws, but they were roughly the size of a large pillow and just as cuddly. In some of the photos, by the set of their little lips, they appeared to be smiling.

  Greta looked up from the photos. “This doesn’t resemble the creatures from last night.”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Dr. Chunn said, looking bewildered. “Like I said, they’re indigenous to Asia and Africa.”

  Greta placed the photo back on Dr. Chunn’s desk. “Then why do I need to know about pangolins?”

  “I’m not particularly familiar on pangolins, so I need to perform more research and contact some zoology experts to confirm my findings, but pangolins may be one of the only mammals on record with scales,” she said, giving Greta a sharp look.

  “What are you saying? That we were attacked by an unknown mammal last night?”

  Dr. Chunn shrugged. “This is just the tip of the iceberg. The part that makes sense.”

  “Right. Too bad we don’t have an environmental science expert consulting on this case,” Greta snapped.

  “I’ve e-mailed my findings to Dr. Leander. I’ll let you know when I hear from him.”

  I blinked, nonplussed at the thought of Dominic checking e-mail in the underground lair of his coven. I didn’t think he had a computer, let alone Wi-Fi.

  “Furthermore,” Dr. Chunn continued, but her expression had changed slightly. She looked nearly embarrassed at the thought of more. “The scales are not a direct DNA match for the blood sample that Ms. DiRocco provided, but they do share some commonalities.”

  Greta’s and Rowens’ heads swiveled to stare at me.

  “Please, just DiRocco,” I insisted.

  “How common?” Greta asked, but she didn’t take her eyes off me.

  Dr. Chunn shook her head. “Likely at the level of Genus. I’ve sent the samples to our lab to confirm, but the turn around on that will take some time.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” I asked.

  “Horses and zebra are both equine, but they’re not the same species. Although they share many similar traits, they are different animals. The same applies to the scales we found at the crime scene and the blood sample you provided me,” Dr. Chunn explained. “The scales and the blood came from two separate species but may be of the same genome.”

  I nodded. “Interesting.”

  “It gets more interesting, I assure you,” Dr. Chunn said, looking grim about that fact.

  Greta still hadn’t taken her eyes off me. “You’re not surprised that the blood sample you provided is related but not identical to the scales found at the crime scene,” Greta said. Considering the accusing look she was drilling at me, she didn’t look much surprised herself.

  I shrugged. “I had my suspicions.”

  “If you know who is responsible for these murders, you need to come clean. Right now.”

&n
bsp; “We both saw what attacked us last night,” I reminded her. “After seeing them, do you know what those creatures are and who’s responsible?” I gestured to the piles of files stacked on Dr. Chunn’s desk. “Now we have scientific proof that they’re not anything we’ve ever seen before.”

  Greta narrowed her eyes. “You know exactly what these creatures are, don’t you?”

  “All I know is that, even after seeing them and having the scientific proof to back it up, you’re still second-guessing your gut.” I shook my head. “Seeing really isn’t believing.”

  “DiRocco.” Greta said my name like a warning.

  I held up my hands. “Let’s just hear out Dr. Chunn’s findings and go from there. She said it only got more interesting, isn’t that right?”

  Dr. Chunn nodded grimly. “Unfortunately, yes, there’s more.”

  “Jesus, how much more could there possibly be?” Greta asked.

  “Never ask that question,” Rowens muttered.

  “I sent our samples to a wildlife service forensic laboratory, and the findings indicate that both the scales and the blood, likely from mammals, share genetic traits similar to those of humans and bats.”

  “Whatever attacked us last night was not human, and it certainly wasn’t bat,” Greta said, not looking pleased in the least.

  “I didn’t say the creature was a human or a bat. I said the scales and blood samples indicate that the creatures were similar to humans and bats.” Dr. Chunn licked her finger and tabbed through several pages of her report. “According to your statement, the creatures who attacked last night had long talons, sharp fangs, pointed ears, and a flat, point-tipped nose; stood upright on legs with posterior hinges; and drank large amounts of blood during their hunt.”

  “And ate human hearts,” Greta added.

  Dr. Chunn nodded. “Maybe Dr. Leander can better account for the human hearts—I certainly can’t—but as extraordinary as it seems, bats do share all of those characteristics. Granted, bats have wings, not arms, they don’t stand upright, and they don’t have the mass or musculature of the creatures that attacked last night, but humans do. And some species of bat survive on a blood diet.”

  “What exactly are you implying?” Greta asked. “That a man-sized bat with pangolin scales attacked us?”

  “My findings are based on your own descriptions and science. This is our evidence. These are the facts,” Dr. Chunn defended.

  “You saw it with your own eyes,” I reminded Greta. “What did it look like to you?”

  Greta cursed. “This is crazy.”

  I nodded. “It is. And it’s supported by physical, forensic evidence.”

  Greta looked up at Dr. Chunn, and she nodded reluctantly. “I can run the data a third time, but working with what you’ve given me”—Dr. Chunn shook her head as she gazed down at her pile of findings, at a loss—“as unbelievable as it is, these are the hard, empirical facts of this case.”

  “What about sewer residue?” I asked. “Was there any evidence in your samples or on the victims that the creatures may be living in or in contact with the sewer or drainage pipes beneath the city?”

  Dr. Chunn shook her head. “No, the lab results didn’t indicate anything that might suggest that.”

  Greta stared at me. “What’s rattling in that mind of yours, DiRocco?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but when I do, I’ll let you know,” I said. “For now, let’s just stick with the facts we already have. They’re unbelievable enough as it is without adding conjecture to the table.”

  Greta and Dr. Chunn nodded, but Rowens knew too much to be fooled. He stared at me, knowing I knew more than I was saying, more even than I’d confided in him, but he knew better than to speak his mind in front of everyone. He’d grill me in private, night blood to night blood, and he’d use that bond against me to leverage the truth because that’s what I’d do if I were him. Unfortunately, I’d been grilled by him before and knew how good he was at his job.

  Almost as good as me.

  Chapter 17

  I should have just sucked up my pride and taken a taxi to Meredith’s apartment. At full speed, my scooter was faster than walking, or at least faster than I was able to walk, but her apartment was ten blocks west of the hospital. The sun was high and bright, and the lure of remaining in sunlight coupled with my aversion to asking a cabbie for help with my scooter had solidified my decision; I left Rowens with Greta to help her investigation and scooted all ten blocks to Meredith’s apartment by myself. The five-minute drive turned into a thirty-minute scooter ride, and by the time I reached her apartment, ambulances were already on scene.

  The ambulances aren’t for Meredith, I told myself. I’d just seen her last night. She’d just survived the impossible—not just a vampire attack, a Damned vampire attack. How could she be hurt in her own apartment in broad daylight?

  By accident. Home invasion. Armed robbery. Rape. Kidnapping. Assault.

  The possibilities were endless, and I’d drive myself crazy thinking of the many traditional ways a person could die that had nothing to do with me or the danger that followed me every night. Add to those the many ways her association with me as her best friend and co-worker could put her at risk, and there was no telling the many ways Meredith could potentially be hurt in her own apartment.

  I called Meredith’s phone again, holding my breath and hoping against hope those ambulances were for someone else in her apartment complex.

  I’d just passed the first ambulance and was driving up to the second when a paramedic jumped out the back, blocking my way. I considered running him over, but then I looked up, met his gaze, and stopped the scooter millimeters from his shin. The paramedic was Nathan. The implications of him being present at a crime scene were many and unpredictable, but one fact was undeniable.

  He’d been crying.

  His eyes were red-rimmed, his nose was running, and he had that stubborn, pinch-lipped expression that he wore when he was struggling not to flat-out weep. I didn’t want to think about why he was on driving duty instead of on scene, helping to stabilize the patient.

  Because he knew the patient. Or worse, the patient was already dead.

  Nathan nodded at me, and we just stared at each other in silence for a long moment, me shaking my head and him nodding, and I wanted to rip his damn head off.

  “No,” I said aloud.

  “It doesn’t look good, Cass,” Nathan whispered.

  My breath caught. “So there’s a chance.”

  Nathan shook his head.

  My anger, hot enough to cauterize my wounds, exploded in Nathan’s stupid, nodding face. “Bullshit. What are you even doing here? You haven’t worked in weeks. No one at the hospital remembers you, and technically, thanks to Jillian, you’re not an employee. She wiped you from their system as effectively as she wiped you from their memories.”

  “I showed them my badge and told them I’m a new hire. I blamed them for losing the paperwork.” Nathan’s expression hardened. “I have to do something with my life. I can’t live off milk and cereal and your generosity forever.”

  I shook my head. “That’s the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard,” I said flatly.

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “For now, but when they check the system, you won’t be there. That’s what happened to me with that first article on the animal bites. Meredith even had a photo, and—” I had to clear my throat at the mention of Meredith. “—and still, no one believed me.”

  “I’m not you, and this isn’t about some stupid article. This is my life,” Nathan snapped.

  “Fine. Whatever,” I snapped back. “Let me through.”

  “It’s too late, Cassidy.”

  “It’s never too late,” I snarled, and ran over Nathan’s feet as I scooted past him.

  I made it into the apartment building, up the elevator three floors, and halfway down the hallway before a paramedic saw me. I blinked back tears, cleared my throat, and threw on the mask I’d p
erfected from years of reporting difficult and gruesome cases. I wouldn’t get in as Meredith’s friend or a reporter, but I might get in if I was on assignment from Greta. And officers on assignment didn’t cry.

  The paramedic strode over to me, a soft, sympathetic expression on his face. I resisted running over his feet like I had Nathan’s. Officers on assignment played nice in the sandbox, at least for as long as it took to get what they wanted.

  No crying. No hit-and-runs. No being my usual prickly self. I took a deep breath. I could do this. For Meredith, I could do anything.

  When I stopped in front of him, the paramedic knelt down, so we were at eye level.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but unless you live on this floor, you’ll need to step, um, go back downstairs for another ten minutes until we clear the area.”

  I nodded, taking advantage of his hesitation. He’d misspoken, and his stutter, coupled with his fresh face and darting, uncertain eyes, were just what I needed to talk my way through. “I heard. There’s been an accident in 304?”

  His expression further softened. “I’m really not at liberty to discuss it, but if you’ll just go back downstairs, we’ll only be ten minutes.”

  “Actually, Detective Wahl called me in to check it out.”

  He blinked. “Who?”

  “Detective Greta Wahl, NYPD.”

  The man’s gaze darted down to my scooter before meeting my eyes again. “Can I see your badge?”

  “Greta will vouch for me.”

  He shook his head. “Unless you have a badge, I can’t let you—”

  “Give her a call. Let her know I’m at Meredith Drake’s apartment on official business, and like I said, she’ll vouch for me.” I cocked my head. “Unless you want her to charge you with obstruction of justice. If you don’t let me through, you’re impeding our investigation.”

  “I—Well—” the paramedic stuttered. He glanced at Meredith’s apartment and rubbed the back of his neck, looking torn.

  I bit my tongue, waiting out his response.

  The man turned to face me again, looking resolute. “Wait here. I’ll call it in,” he said. He walked into the elevator I’d just rode up in and disappeared behind its closing door.