Dark Wings Descending

by Lesley Davis

  Eli began reeling off a complicated description that defied understanding. Ashley cut into his long-winded recitation.

  “Without getting too technical, Eli. Not all of us share your far superior intellect.”

  Eli pondered for a moment. “I rerouted your brain synapses, effectively rewiring your brain with a dimmer switch. You can see the lights emitted, but now they are muted and are not going to cause your pain receptors to react.”

  Rafe stared at him. “Thank you. But if you can do all that, why not just stop me from seeing them altogether?”

  “It’s part of your physiology now. I can’t tamper with that, which is meant to be, but I can help with the alleviation of the pain.”

  Rafe rubbed at her forehead, trying to get a grasp on all that was happening to her. “When the guy in the alley marked me, did I somehow slip through to an alternative reality? Because this sure isn’t the Kansas I remember anymore.”

  “We’re in Chicago, Detective.” Eli tossed a look toward Ashley. “Just how badly was she brain-damaged in the demon fight?”

  Ashley shook her head at him. “There’s no such thing as alternative realities, Detective,” she said to Rafe.

  “And until you, there was no such thing as demons in my reality either, and look where that’s leading me.” She stepped into Ashley’s personal space. “Right back to your door.”

  “I’m curious, how did you manage to find me? I don’t usually leave a paper trail that can be found so fast.”

  “You gave me your cell phone number.”

  Ashley looked resigned. “So I did. I gave it to you so you could call me and we could set up a meeting. Guess you skipped that part.”

  “Who are you exactly? Because no PI I know would be camped out in a place like this unless they were undercover or out of luck. I’ve got enough fashion sense to know that your jacket probably cost more than the rent does on this place. So what gives?”

  “We’re here for the same reason you are, to find the killer of these women.”

  “Because you think it’s a demon?”

  “Because whoever or whatever he is, he’s not entirely human.”

  “And you’re here to do what exactly? Help me solve the killings in your own special way?” Rafe flicked a look up and down Ashley’s body. “Forgive me, but I fail to see how much assistance you can be by supposedly changing your appearance.”

  “Supposedly?” Eli asked, watching their verbal sparring with great interest.

  “She doesn’t see who I become. Rafe has only ever seen me,” Ashley said.

  “Unfortunate.”

  “And the very reason why we’re here like this now,” Ashley told him.

  Frustrated at how they were talking over her head when she was standing right there with them, Rafe butted in. “Actually, I’m here because last night you mentioned something about visiting the crime scenes. I have to ascertain just how much you may have contaminated both the scene and the evidence with your unauthorized presence.” She brushed back her jacket and tapped the handcuffs attached to her belt. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t haul you in right now for disturbing a crime scene.”

  “Because the person you’d be seen dragging into the station wouldn’t be me but possibly Detective Powell. I can glamour her exceptionally accurately. How long do you think you’d still be at your shiny new desk at the DDU after that stunt?”

  “How can you do what you do?” she bit out, furious at what Ashley proposed and powerless to counter her threat.

  “The same way you can see the glamour when I wear it. Because I’m different. Just like you are now.”

  “But I didn’t see any fancy lights before I got taken down by Armitage. My life was fucking normal up until then.” She gestured between Ashley and Eli. “No glamours, no white lights, no healing when I damn well didn’t ask for it. No rerouting whatever is going on in my brain that’s making me feel so fucking paranoid!”

  Rafe brushed off Ashley’s hand that reached out to her. “I warn you, both of you, stay the hell out of my investigation or I’ll arrest you both so fast neither of you will have time to turn on the lights.” Rafe stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her and wincing at the pull in her side the sudden movement had caused. She headed toward the elevator, muttering under her breath. “Rerouting of synapses. If I need healing, let’s start with the fucking knife wound in my side.” She pressed the button for the elevator, and when it didn’t come immediately she pounded on it numerous times to vent her frustration. “If she’s compromised any of my scenes I’ll glamour her ass all the way to jail.”

  Chapter Eight

  “So,” Eli said, “that’s your detective.”

  Ashley’s ears were still ringing from the slamming of the door. I bet that’s woken most of the neighbors. “Yes, Eli, that’s Rafe Douglas.”

  “Humans don’t usually survive a demon attack.”

  “She’s like no other human I’ve ever met.” Ashley busied herself leafing through the file Rafe had left behind. She was curious what Rafe had managed to find out.

  “And?”

  “And nothing, nosy. She’s dedicated, determined.”

  “And very handsome. You said so yourself, I recall, after your first encounter.”

  Ashley groaned. “I admit it. She’s so damn hot I’m frightened of going up in flames every time I see her.”

  “Is this a problem?”

  Only if I can’t manage to keep my hands to myself. Ashley thought back to the previous night when she’d held Rafe’s face in her hands and watched over her as she’d slept. Instant attraction, and I’m not the only one who felt it. And it wasn’t the draining of poison talking when she told me I was beautiful. Could she get Rafe to be that unguarded again, to put down her shield so that Ashley could reach the woman behind it?

  “You’ve gone very quiet,” Eli said.

  “I have to go back and face her. I’m trying to think of the best strategy to do that without ending up behind bars.”

  “You can be very persuasive; I’ve seen you. You’re good at getting what you want.”

  Ashley’s breath caught a little at Eli’s innocent words. Want? It’s just a job, she told herself. Solve the crimes and then move on to the next case. “She’s not going to make this easy.”

  “No, I don’t think she will, but she’ll be a worthy ally by your side. You complement each other.”

  “You got all that from her barging in here and yelling at me to stay away?”

  “No. I got it from her eyes and heart and all that she didn’t say out loud when she looked at you.”

  “Eli, you’re just an old romantic at heart.”

  “I have no time for romance; it’s too human an emotion.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  *

  Rafe was glad to see Dean and Alona hard at work when she returned to the DDU. She slipped a large box of doughnuts, along with fresh coffee, beside Alona as she headed back to her own desk.

  “Where have you been, boss?” Dean looked up over his computer at her entrance and gratefully accepted his own coffee from her.

  “I was following up on a lead I got last night, but it went nowhere.” Rafe busied herself at her desk, picking up her telephone messages and discarding most of them. She was not willing to talk even to Dean about Ashley Scott or the bizarre happenings that kept occurring around her. She flicked on her computer and decided to just forget Ashley and all the crazy baggage that came with her.

  “Alona, have we got the medical reports for the first two murders somewhere at your fingertips?” She waited while Alona brought them up on the big screen. Rafe read through them again, a frown gathering on her face. “I’m going to see if Dr. Alan can spare me a few minutes while he still has victim number three in his care.” As quickly as she had entered the office, Rafe turned back around and left. She headed down to the basement, where the precinct morgue resided. The pale
gray walls were in stark contrast to the rest of the CPD, but Rafe relished the coolness and the muted lights that ran the length of the corridor. She pushed open the door to the morgue and was directed further down the halls by a woman pushing a gurney. The body underneath the drape seemed shapeless and nondescript, but Rafe couldn’t ignore the fact the white cloth covered yet another dead person to join the statistics that the city logged every month. She popped her head around a door and found Dr. Alan working away on a corpse.

  “Dr. Alan, have you got a moment, please?”

  The old man’s face lit up when Rafe entered his room. “I knew it wouldn’t be long before you were down here, Detective, chasing up the details.” Dr. Alan grinned at her and waved her in. He gestured for her to put on a coverall so as not to get anything untoward on her suit. Stretched over the body between them, he fixed her with an intense stare, his eyes taking in her injuries with professional interest. “You took a mighty beating, and I know what you’re sporting is only half of what lies beneath. I saw his body, and I have to admit to you, Rafe, I’m surprised you didn’t end up on my table.”

  Rafe ran a hand over her face in a gesture that was becoming second nature to her, checking that she was still intact, assuring herself she was still alive. “To be honest, Doc, I thought I’d be toe tag material too.”

  He reached over the body and slapped Rafe gently on the shoulder. “I’m glad to have you back and in one piece. The place just isn’t the same without you. And now that the DDU is fully functional, you’re back where you belong. Which is why you’re down here? I presume to ask about the latest victim your backstabber left the city to mourn?”

  Rafe furtively glanced around the room before speaking in a hushed tone. “Actually, Doc, I want to ask about Marcus Armitage.”

  “The behemoth that nearly killed you? What do you want to hear? I’m sure you read my report.”

  Rafe’s indecision crippled her. How could she seriously ask the coroner the burning question that was lodged in her head? She grimaced and gathered up her courage. “Was there anything unusual about Marcus Armitage when you performed his autopsy?”

  “Other than the fact he was higher than three kites tied to a satellite orbiting Mars?” Dr. Alan shuffled over to his computer and, one key at a time, hen-pecked his way across the keyboard. “You know his tox screen. If it could be injected, swallowed, or snorted, it was in his system. He was grossly overweight, but I put that down to his being a quarterback who would rather snort a line than run down one.” He glanced up from his screen. “Anything you looking for in particular?”

  “Did he have any deformities?”

  Dr. Alan blinked owlishly at her. “Deformities? He had several healed-up broken bones from old football injuries.”

  Shaking her head, Rafe took the plunge. “Did he have any…” Her words failed her and she patted at her head.

  “Head injuries?”

  “Horns,” Rafe blurted out. “Did he have any horns?”

  The silence in the room was absolute. Dr. Alan stared at her, looked at his computer screen, then out of the corner of his eye he looked back at Rafe again. “What medication have they got you on, Rafe?”

  “Humor me, Doc, please. Did you find anything unusual on his X-rays?”

  “On his head?”

  Rafe shrugged. “On his head in this general area.” She patted to just above her temples.

  Dr. Alan gave her a measured look that made her almost regret bringing this conversation up. But he beckoned Rafe over to his screen and brought up the X-rays from Armitage’s autopsy. “When he came in, his head was pretty much blown away, so he wasn’t going to win any prizes for being handsome.”

  “Did he look odd?”

  “His face was distorted, but no one’s face stays normal after a bullet through the forehead. Once I’d peeled his face off and found what was left of his skull, there wasn’t a whole lot I could piece back together.” He looked over his X-rays again. “Can’t remember seeing anything that resembled horns, though.”

  “I was just checking.” Rafe studied the X-rays herself, desperately searching for proof of what she’d seen.

  “He wasn’t red either,” Dr. Alan added.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “He didn’t in any way resemble Hellboy.”

  Narrowing her eyes at his sly drawl, Rafe had to smile. “This conversation stays strictly between you and me, right, Doc?”

  “Of course. I’d hate for you to be back at work only two days and being chased by demons. Still, it would go a long way to explaining so many of the bodies I’ve had come past my tables.” He stepped back from his desk. “Must have been really dark in that alley, Rafe. Your eyes were playing tricks, no doubt.”

  “No doubt,” Rafe said, knowing he was giving her an out. “What can you tell me about our latest victim, then?”

  “She didn’t have horns either.”

  Rafe bit back a grin. “Let it go, Doc, or I’m telling your wife about your late-night poker games you host here when you’re supposedly doing overtime.”

  He wagged his finger at her. “You play dirty, Detective.”

  “No, I play to win, which is why I clean you out every time. Now back to the victim, if you please.”

  “This latest woman was killed in exactly the same way as the previous two.” He took off his latex gloves and slipped on a new pair. He handed Rafe a set as he guided her over to the fridges. “You have a serial killer on your hands, and a nasty one, judging by this killer’s modus operandi.”

  Rafe followed him, standing aside as he pulled a tray out with a cloth-covered body on top. Rafe had seen Andrea Mason at her crime scene, but even now, seeing her face in rigor twisted in a mask of terror, it gave Rafe chills. She tried to hide her reaction from Dr. Alan. She didn’t need to give him any more concerns.

  “This is a bad one,” he said as he finished rolling down the sheet. “I’m going to have to request that the family have a closed casket. They don’t need to see their daughter looking like this at the funeral. It was hard enough when her father came to identify her.”

  “The stuff of nightmares,” Rafe said, moving her gaze off the dead woman’s face and down to the gaping neck wound.

  “One clean cut, left to right, deep enough to cut open the jugular vein and have her bleed to death.”

  “A swift kill, executed with military precision perhaps?” Rafe examined the wound. “There are no hesitation marks at all.”

  “A hunter or butcher would be able to do the same.”

  Rafe thought back to the profile Blythe had given her. This was the second time the skills of a butcher had been brought up. “So this is someone who knows how to incapacitate their prey swiftly and surely.” She studied lower down the torso. It had been left unmarked. The woman’s naked breasts looked pale and white in the stark light of the morgue. “No signs of sexual trauma?”

  Dr. Alan shook his head. “Not a thing, no fluids of any kind left on or near the body. No vaginal tearing or bruising. There’s no sign of any sexual penetration taking place at all, before or after her death.”

  “So he’s on his third victim and it’s still not sexual. So what is it that feeds his need to kill?”

  Dr. Alan turned the body over carefully and Rafe got to see the full extent of the butchery wrought on the woman’s flesh. She couldn’t hide her wince this time.

  “Fuck me. Without all the blood, it looks even more brutal.” She checked out the grotesque wounds. “And still there’s nothing missing?”

  “Not a thing. All the organs are in place, the spinal cord is all intact, and there are no teeth marks to indicate he sampled the flesh.” He folded back a wedge of muscle. “She was at her physical peak, and from what I’ve learned from her family, she was a beautiful girl inside and out.” He laid her back down gently. “She didn’t deserve to end up like this.”

  Rafe couldn’t bring herself to look away from the woman’s face. “What the fuck did she see just befor
e she died that it seared on her face like that?”

  “Maybe she saw the devil himself.”

  Rafe flinched inwardly. She knew exactly what that looked like.

  Chapter Nine

  Ashley sat on a bench opposite the Chicago PD and watched the endless parade of people milling in and out of the building. Legs outstretched, hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, she looked like someone merely enjoying the pleasantly mild late afternoon. Her eyes, however, were fixed on a certain window three floors up. She’d seen someone pass by it a few times but hadn’t been able to tell if it was Rafe. She wished Rafe would just look out and see her to save her the wait of catching her when she left.

  “Come on, Detective. See me down here. I’m playing by your rules. I’m not stepping foot inside your department. Come to me instead.” Ashley wondered if somewhere in the strange and magical mix of genes her father had passed on to her there could be a smidgen of a siren’s call. “Come on, Rafe, before I’m arrested for loitering.” Still staring up at the window, Ashley concentrated all her energy toward the glass. She blinked with a start as a figure stopped at the window, looked down, then did a very visible double take. Ashley couldn’t stop the grin from breaking across her face. “Oh yeah! Come get me, Detective. I’m out here waiting.” She pictured Rafe storming out of the DDU and heading for the elevator. She knew Rafe would be fuming as the floors counted down. Ashley kept her gaze fixed on the front doors. Sure enough, Rafe came stalking out of the building, and with barely a glance at the traffic, walked right across the road toward her.

  “For fuck’s sake, Rafe, you should really brush up on your traffic code,” Ashley said, wincing at the long, drawn-out horn blast from a taxi directed at Rafe’s reckless crossing.

  “What in God’s name are you doing here? I thought I made myself perfectly clear this morning.”