This might be fun, actually.
It occurred to her perhaps she should be concerned about her quicksilver shift in attitude. That a closer examination of what her embrace of the Nightshade power might mean for her ultimately. But, for the moment, she was happy to simply feel in control and almost cocky in a situation that normally would make her a quivering, agreeable mess.
Yes, she’d take it, thank you very much.
“Dr. DanAllart, how lovely for you to join us.” President Mickerel’s smile gave her every indication he wasn’t all that happy to see her. Someone’s foot hit hers on her right, though Kinsey didn’t bother to offer the assailant a glance. She already knew Dr. Malcolm MacIntosh meant it twofold—as a distraction and, quite likely from the early-morning alcohol stink of him, a proposition. He’d made a point of offering both on several occasions since she took her job at the college, none of which really stuck with her. She had no idea he was on the board, though.
Didn’t mean she was going to be nice to the fast-handed, drunken Scot. Even if he was a bestselling author and Silver City College’s superstar professor.
“I want you to know how delighted I’ve been with your performance for us thus far.” The president’s smile hadn’t changed any. Kinsey did risk a glance at her own dean of anthropology, but Kris wouldn’t meet her eyes. What did he know she didn’t?
“Thank you,” Kinsey said, delighted at her crisp, professional tone. “I’m enjoying my tenure here as well.”
“We’ve been equally impressed as to your ability to recruit funding to the college.” Kinsey couldn’t stop the little frown pulling her brows together. What was he talking about? Her grandmother? “But, we understand that funding is now in jeopardy.” His friendly tone turned to concern, thick, white brows like bushes of frosted brambles shading his pale eyes. Kinsey’s mind ran off with her, random details catching her attention as she tried to figure out ahead of his next words what he was talking about. She was, for instance, acutely aware of the scent of the dean’s cologne, the tiny spot of what had to be a coffee droplet on the surface of the table. The icy cold of the air conditioning giving her goosebumps. The tug of the bobby pins holding her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck.
“It’s in the best interest of the college to maintain and expand our funding options.” Kinsey had heard the same spiel at every institution she worked for. Funding for private education facilities was always at the top of the priorities list. Her own department often suffered when funding fell away. “You agree?”
“Of course,” Kinsey said, looking around the table. Kris cleared his throat.
“Dr. DanAllart’s contribution in that area has been exceptional,” her dean said. Nice of him to speak up for her. She liked the middle-aged Indiana Joneseque Dr. Kris Unman, respected him. That respect notched up slightly when he spoke up. But, he could have warned her ahead of time this was coming.
Why would Margot cut off funding? “I assure you,” Kinsey said, “if there’s been a decrease in monetary contributions due to my actions, I’m not aware of it.”
The dean’s furry white brows danced over his eyes, thick neck bulging over the edge of his white shirt. The washed-out gray of his expensive suit was a terrible color for him, she decided. Trivial details. How they plagued her.
“And yet,” he said, voice grave, one big, thick-fingered hand reaching for hers, touching her skin briefly with his paper dry flesh, “your choice to leave the employ of Simone Paris has led us to this place, Dr. DanAllart.”
Her what?
Kinsey lost her calm composure a moment, the Nightshade power fleeing from her in the face of her shock. “I don’t understand.” What did Simone have to do with this? She was already a patron of the college. The dean had sent her to Kinsey directly.
Hadn’t he?
“While we understand your desire to continue your association and work with the Silver City Police Department,” the dean went on while Kinsey swallowed her shock, sounding very much like he didn’t get it at all, “the funding Ms. Paris offered our institution for your continued cooperation is substantial.” Holy shit. She watched him swallow, a desperate, greedy flare of energy washing away from him, over her, triggering her power again.
“I was under the impression Ms. Paris was already a patron of the college before I was hired. That you directed her to me.” How naïve she’d been.
The dean’s surprise was genuine. “Ms. Paris had no connection to us in the past, Dr. DanAllart. She volunteered funding after you agreed to work on a private project for her.”
Well now. Simone’s manipulations were almost as clever as Kinsey’s grandmother’s.
“And now I’ve left her employ, she’s pulling her funding?” Why did Kinsey expect Simone to take her retreat lying down? Still, she didn’t foresee something like this.
“I’m afraid that’s the case,” the dean said. The tone in the room was so grim, so oppressive, Kinsey had to resist rubbing her arms and hugging herself against the animosity. All these grasping, arrogant assholes, blaming her for killing the golden goose she’d discovered in the first place.
Only Kris seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing. And Malcolm, who she caught grinning at her out of the corner of her eye. She refused to look up past the ostentatious leather patches on his tweed jacket. She had enough minutia to occupy her.
“I’m unable to continue my work with the SSPD if I return to Ms. Paris’s employ,” Kinsey said. But, they already knew that.
“Your contributions to the safety of this city are not in question,” the dean said. “But, your first loyalty must be to the college that supplies your paycheck.”
A threat without substance. He obviously didn’t know just how little she needed the money. Almost made her laugh. Mostly because that was about as blatant as the dean was going to get. Go back to working for Simone and renew the funding or here’s the door.
He had no idea how close he was to an enthusiastic, “Fuck you.”
As it was, Kinsey felt a bubbling giggle rising from the depths of her. His threat might have scared her once. But with everything she knew now, all the things she’d seen, learned about… somehow, this pedestrian attempt to bully her tickled her funny bone.
Gerri would be proud of her, she was sure, as she climbed to her feet.
“Then,” she said, “I guess you’ll have to fire me.”
It was absolutely invigorating to leave the room to the gasps of the gathering, to push through the big, wooden door like she was shedding a skin she no longer needed. She’d miss teaching, already thinking ahead. She had her trust fund, so money would never be an issue. Maybe she could do some research on her own, now. Or, she giggled, to the shocked expression of the dean’s receptionist on her way out, she could go to the police academy.
Gerri would have a fit.
Footsteps behind her only registered after she left the dean’s office and almost to the elevator. The feeling of freedom was so intense she smiled when she turned at the touch of a hand on her arm.
Kris seemed put off by her expression. “Kinsey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea or I would have called you.”
She shook her head, shrugged. “Thanks,” she said.
“They won’t fire you,” he said, though he didn’t sound all that convinced.
“Let them.” She shook his hand. “I’ll miss my students. And you. But I won’t be bullied.”
He finally relaxed, smiled in return. “I wish I had your guts, kid.” He let her go, didn’t offer to shake her hand, like she’d tolerate his touch anyway. “If they’ll let me, I’ll make sure you get full tenure.”
Kinsey was still grinning when the elevator doors whooshed open at the bottom floor, her decision made. Time to take a drive to Julian Black’s mansion and get some answers from Simone.
***
INT. – SILVER CITY MORGUE – MORNING
Ray’s hands always looked odd to her, cloaked in latex, though she’d been wearing rubber gloves
on and off for most of her adult life. There was something slick and foreign about the way her skin stuck in partial patches to the inside of the white latex, as though she were a construct beneath a fake skin.
The double doors of the morgue’s main room whispered open, her assistant, Robert Ling, poking his head inside. She’d sent him for fresh coffee, which he’d either forgotten or become sidetracked and mislaid.
She could really use a cup right about now. Her nights lately had been long and intense, thanks to the willing, almost demanding, arms of her lover, Cici Panther. The therapist’s longing was so familiar to Ray, so much like her own at times, she could hardly say no. But there was also a thrum of power to Cici which Ray had never experienced in a lover before. An undercurrent of seduction that lured her deeper and deeper into this relationship, further than she’d ever gone before.
Ray lifted one hand, pushed back a stray lock of hair from her forehead with the back of one wrist. She needed a bang trim. “Something?”
Robert tilted his head, large, almond eyes reminding her of an anime figure. “Identification for the Lane body,” he said.
The very woman lay on her slab right now, clean and Y-incisioned after careful scrapings of her nail beds and X-rays taken. Ray hadn’t had a chance to look at much aside from the corpse itself. She glanced down at the woman’s ashen face, eyes filmed over, staring at nothing, and sighed.
“Give me five minutes,” she said.
Normally, she would just have the viewing on a tray, nice and neat and clean. But Ray wasn’t even close to closing her up yet. Instead, she released the clamps holding back the woman’s skin and settled the flesh flat before tugging out a fresh sheet and draping it over the wound. The top sheet went over that, disguising the gaping hole as best she could, considering Diane Lane’s liver, lungs, kidneys and tiny, child-sized heart were already absent from the chest cavity.
Ray wheeled Diane’s body into a small side room, perfect for viewing, with a long window on one side. She reserved this option for families, typically, allowing one or two inside, the rest to stand on the other side of the glass. Not necessary, she guessed, when she looked up and spotted Robert talking with a tall, thin man with dark hair, her assistant’s hands moving as he described or explained something to the stranger.
The wheels of the table rolled smoothly, Ray kicked one of the brakes into place and gestured to Robert to allow the visitor to enter. She was tempted to ask the man, who came through the door with his shoulders slumped, his face sad and tight, if he knew Diane Lane was part cubi.
At least, Ray suspected as much. She hadn’t had the opportunity to ask Kinsey if such a thing was possible. Seeing as Aisling, the dancer from the Starlet Lounge had been cubi. And heartless, a trait of her race according to the anthropologist. Ray could only assume such a tiny, perfect heart had to mean Diane was at least partially that same race.
But, Ray simply couldn’t take the chance this man knew anything about the paranormal. And when he introduced himself, she was glad she held her tongue.
“Dr. Matt Brichert.” He offered one hand. Ray took it, shook it as she introduced herself in return, noted the heat of his skin, the way his dark eyes seemed to sweep over her. Not in a sexual way, but as though he was taking her measure for later purpose. “Diane was a colleague at the Paramount Zoo. Since she had no next of kin here in Silver City, the Pendletons asked me to come down and identify the body.”
“It was kind of you to come,” Ray said, keeping it soft. “I’m sorry you had to do this, Dr. Brichert.”
He shrugged, lean body not so much tense as it was, in her estimation, prepared. But, for what?
“Diane was my friend,” he said, just as softly, sadly. “It seemed a shame there would be no one but me to say goodbye.”
Ray reached for the edge of the sheet, paused. “You’re a veterinarian, Dr. Brichert?”
He nodded. “I understand she fell.”
There was more to it than that, as far as Ray could tell so far, but she just offered a sad smile. “She’s suffered some damage to her face.”
He nodded one more time. “I’m ready,” he said.
Ray folded the sheet back, stepped away, making sure to only expose her to the tops of her shoulders. Robert joined her, arms crossed over his chest, as Matt Brichert bent over Diane, gently reached for her hair still wet from her cleaning, though he barely made contact as if instinctually understanding he wasn’t allowed to touch her. Ray closed her mouth, protest dying in her throat when he dropped his hand.
He finally backed away, gaze lifting to hers again. “Thank you,” he said. Glanced over her shoulder and tensed. Ray only noticed his shift in attention, the sudden anxiety because she was looking right at him.
She turned, tense herself, wondering what in the world could make him so nervous.
And spotted Gerri through the door, waiting for her in the main morgue.
The detective waved, joined them in the viewing room. Her gaze roved the room, as it always did when she first arrived, no matter whether the local bar or a crime scene. A quick nod for Robert and a sudden moment of silence preceded the moment she encountered Dr. Brichert.
Something passed between them, though Ray was at a loss as to what. Her old training—her mother’s training—kicked in as discomfort made it impossible for her to remain silent.
“Dr. Brichert was a coworker of Dr. Lane,” she said, slightly more brightly than she intended. “And this is Detective Meyers. She’s the lead investigator on Dr. Lane’s case.”
“I’m sure it’s in good hands.” He mumbled the words as he turned toward the door.
Gerri was after him almost immediately. Why did Ray get the impression her hackles were up?
“I have a few questions for you, Doctor.” Leave it to Gerri to interrogate a suspect over a dead body. Though, in a way, it was fitting, wasn’t it? Ray really needed that coffee. Robert looked rapt with attention and overly eager to remain, so she sighed inwardly and held still.
Dr. Brichert spun back, head bowed. “I’m not sure how much help I can be.”
Gerri seemed to sniff the air, walking on the balls of her feet as she drew closer. “How well did you know Dr. Lane?”
“Not that well,” he said. “We were friends, but it was a while ago. We just reconnected when she took this job.” His voice had a rough edge, almost like he’d spent years polishing away an accent by living in the US.
“Any idea if she had enemies, someone who might want to hurt her? Held a grudge against her?” Gerri came to a halt between Ray and Dr. Brichert and Ray suddenly realized that the detective was instinctually trying to protect her. Robert tsked, tried to move around to see better, but Ray’s hand shot out and caught him, held him still. If Gerri felt the need to physically protect them, there was a reason.
Ray just didn’t see it, yet. And, come to think of it, as her hand dropped from Robert’s arm and the image of her assistant dying an old man quietly in his bed, faded from the contact, she realized she couldn’t see anything of the sort for Dr. Brichert.
If Kinsey was right, if her theory about Ray’s ability as a vampir was correct, that meant it was likely the veterinarian was a paranormal.
“Not that I know of.” He finally looked up and met Gerri’s eyes. Ray caught herself holding her breath and had to force an exhale as a moment of tension passed. “But,” he said, “you should talk to Jay and Bernice Pendleton. They might know more.”
Gerri let him go. That surprised Ray, actually. She assumed, if there was an issue, enough the detective felt the urge to put herself in the way of the man physically, he was likely the murderer or, at least, part of the problem. But as the redhead spun to face her, Ray realized Gerri was as lost as she was.
“That was weird.” Gerri shuddered, green eyes troubled. “Ray, was he…?”
She had to nod. “I couldn’t see anything,” she said.
Robert looked back and forth between them. “You two are talking about paranormal shit,
aren’t you?” He blew off Ray’s arched eyebrows. “I saw her heart, Ray. Don’t think I don’t know there’s weird crap going on in this case.”
Gerri pounced on his words, coming to the body, staring down into Diane’s vacant face. “What about her heart?”
Ray told her what she’d found. “We need to talk to Kinsey.”
Gerri ran one hand over her mouth, nodded. “Set it up,” she said, turning and stomping for the exit. “I’m going to go talk to the Pendletons.”
“Gerri.” Ray’s summons worked, at least briefly. The detective stopped, half way out the door, one hand holding it open. “Do you know what he is?”
The big redhead left without answering.
***
***
EXT. – PARAMOUNT ZOO – NOON
The entry to the Paramount Zoo reminded Gerri of going on a safari, if part of Africa was suddenly transported to the California countryside. The gate attendant’s tacky uniform did nothing to disguise the fact he carried about fifty extra pounds and likely needed a visit to the dentist before too long. She flashed her badge, to which he tilted his safari hat and gestured for her to drive through the narrow lane.
Tall gates resembling a village construct with lashed together logs supporting an arching sign welcomed visitors to Paramount Zoo met with her scrutiny. Gerri parked the Charger in the large lot and followed a family of an overburdened mother and father and extra hyper kids to the walkway and entry. One touch of the “wood” and Gerri had her answer to the mystery of the perfectly sculpted entry. Poured concrete, formed and painted to look like nature.
So California.
Miss Perky at the window—her nametag identified her as Amy—tried a bright greeting. “Good morning, welcome to Paramount Zoo, can I help you?” But, it died as Gerri held up her badge. Her face crumpled slightly, softly Asian features tempered with Caucasian showing in the slant of her eyes, her pointed chin. She reached for the phone beside her and whispered into it, gaze never leaving Gerri until she replaced the handset.
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