by C. D. Hersh
“I’ll arrange fer the bodyguards,” Eli said from the other side of the kitchen table. After slathering butter on a scone, he took a bite and then wiped his beard with a pumpkin-colored napkin.
“I can’t have a detail of shifters following me around wherever I go,” Alexi protested. “It will look weird.”
“I have a plan ’twill work as smooth as churned butter. Yer protectors ’twill be doing a documentary aboot Cleveland’s newest woman police captain. It’ll nae only protect ye with their presence, but we’ll catch any suspicious characters on tape.” Eli rubbed his hands together gleefully. “’Tis a brilliant idea.”
“Is not!” Alexi spat out the words.
“Dinna fight me aboot this, lassie, fer ye’ll nae win. Ye will have protection one way or another.”
“I’m not going to have a bunch of men following me around, Eli.”
“’Twill nae be all men. My own niece, Mary Kate McCraigen, ’twill be the head o’ the band. She’ll play the director o’ the film crew and ’twill be with ye every hour o’ the day while ye are in the headquarters.”
“You have a niece?” Rhys asked.
“’Tis mair like a grand, grand, grand, grand, grandniece. None o’ my closest blood kin are alive, sae I havetae claim those I can. She’s a bonny lass and will protect our Alexi well.”
“I like the idea of a woman,” Rhys said.
Alexi stuck her tongue out at her husband. “You would.” Sighing, she turned to Eli. “Okay, I’ll give it a shot, but if they interfere with my job, they’re out the door.”
“Fair enough. ’Twill take a couple o’ days tae gather the men.”
“Will she be safe until then?”
“Yes. I’ll be safe. You two owe me a couple of days of freedom if I agree to this.” She shot the pair what she hoped was an unyielding look. Her phone rang, interrupting the intense moment. “It’s the office.” Picking up the cell, she thumbed it on. “Temple.”
“This is Katrina,” said the voice on the other end. “We just had a body come in, and I think you need to hear this.”
“I’ll be there as quick as I can, Katrina.” Alexi disconnected and pushed away from the table. “I have to go.”
Leaning over, she gave Rhys a kiss then headed to the precinct.
“What do you have?” Alexi asked Katrina as she entered the morgue.
Katrina’s gaze swung around the empty room and she crooked a finger at her, motioning her closer. “Remember what we discussed the other day?”
“Pregnancy?” she whispered, hoping Katrina hadn’t planned another mommy pep talk.
“Not that. My other job.”
“Has something happened?”
Laying the cover down from the corpse on the nearest stainless steel table, Katrina indicated she should move to the other side of the table. “See this?” She pointed to two small puncture marks on the neck of the corpse.
Bending down, Alexi inspected the marks. “What are they?”
After another furtive glance around the room, Katrina whispered, “Possibly vampire marks.”
Alexi bolted upright so quickly she bumped into the table behind her. “Vam—”
“Shhh!” Katrina hissed. “Not so loud.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not one-hundred percent. But this is the second time I’ve discovered this mark on a body I’ve examined. And the second time I’ve seen this man.”
“Alive or dead?”
“Dead. I found him last night in an alley.”
“Did you call him in?”
“No.”
“What were you doing in an alley with a dead man?”
Katrina gave her a what-do-you-think look. “Hunting.”
“Vampires?” She tried to wrap her head around Katrina’s theory. “Vampires? In Cleveland?”
“Yeah.” Katrina went to the wall of morgue drawers and slid out another body. “This guy has the same marks on him.” Then she opened several more drawers. “So does this one and this one and this one. I checked all the bodies we have, and I found these guys.”
“Isn’t this the guy with the mismatched ear lobes?”
“Yeah.”
Alexi examined another body. “This one’s eyebrows are different. This one’s mouth doesn’t look right.” She checked the third body, and her heart nearly leapt from her chest. “His face is all screwed up.”
“Looks like a patchwork quilt, doesn’t he?”
Yeah, because he’s a mimic shifter who probably used a lot of different mimics to do his evil deeds. Alexi strode back to the corpse on the table and took a second look at him. One cheekbone was definitely higher than the other, and more angular. This man probably hadn’t shifted into many other people. He only seemed to have one mismatched facial characteristic.
“What did they die from?”
“Heart attack, according to the reports. I didn’t examine all of the bodies. Just the one you saw the other day and this guy.”
“What killed your cases?”
“Preliminary on the guy I first showed you reads like a heart attack, but I’m not sure since I’ve seen these marks. Five bodies with the same puncture marks screams vampire to me. But something doesn’t fit. Feeding vampires don’t kill. When they do kill, their victim is turned. None of these dudes are rising at sundown, so they are not vamps.”
She stared at Katrina trying to decide what to say. Vampires in Cleveland seemed farfetched. Then again, so did rogue shape shifters killing other rogues. But the question remained . . . why? Unrest in Falhman’s ranks? Or was he ordering hits because he was finished with these mimics? Either way, Katrina’s poking around could land her in big trouble.
When she didn’t respond, Katrina added, “You told me to come to you if I found anything strange. I think this qualifies. Normally, I’d handle vampires myself, but something doesn’t add up here.” She removed two vials from her pocket. “I took these fluids from the body last night. I’m planning on testing them.”
“Give them to the new toxicology specialist, Olivia.”
Katrina started to put the vials back in her pocket, but Alexi indicated she should hand them over. “I’d really rather do this myself,” Katrina protested.
“I’m telling you someone else should check them out. Someone unbiased who doesn’t suspect vampires.” When the deputy coroner didn’t hand over the vials, Alexi said, “Don’t make me go to your boss, Katrina.”
Scowling, Katrina placed the vials in a slotted container on a medical cabinet. “I think you are making a mistake. Olivia won’t know what to look for.”
“Precisely why I want her to test them. She won’t be blinded by paranormal influences.”
“You don’t believe me?”
Seeing the resistance swirling in Kat’s eyes, Alexi hesitated before answering. Maybe it was time to let her in, a little bit. “I believe things exist in the world we don’t understand. Paranormal things. I’ve never met a vampire, but I have met a shape shifter.
“In fact, this man is more than likely a shape shifter. If someone, or something, is killing shape shifters I want to know who and why. However, I don’t want you hunting him or your perceptions clouding the evidence.”
“What makes you think he’s a shifter?”
Alexi motioned to the body in front of her. “See how his cheekbones don’t match? When shifters mimic people and do evil deeds while using another person’s form, they run the risk of retaining characteristics of the person when they shift back to their true personas. The man with the patchwork face has probably used a lot of different mimic shifts to do bad things. That’s why he looks that way.”
“Doesn’t match any knowledge I have of shifters,” Katrina protested. “They’re werebears or werewolves or werec
ats or selkie seals. Shifters can’t take other human forms. You kill them with silver bullets, or in the case of selkies you hide their skins so they can’t change back into seals.”
“Have you ever seen a selkie or a mermaid?”
“No. They’re usually in coastal areas.”
“Yet you believe they exist?”
“I do.”
“Then you have to trust me on this one, Katrina. I’ve seen these shifters. I know they exist and some are good, but others are bad. As a paranormal hunter you can’t tell the difference between them. You need to stay out of this now since you’ve brought it to my attention.”
“If a skilled paranormal hunter can’t tell the difference, then who can?”
Another hesitation caused Katrina to tip her head and study her. “Can you?”
Glad Katrina didn’t have the skills to know she lied, Alexi shook her head. “I know some shifters. I’ll let them know.” That was the truth, even if it did skirt her question.
“If it’s a vampire killing these men?”
“Then I’ll ask you to help. Are we clear?”
Katrina nodded. Alexi touched her arm and gave her a quick auric scan. Her head said yes, but the rest of her body clearly said no. That was bad.
When Owen, shifted as Olivia, saw Kat and Alexi engrossed in conversation, he stopped short as he opened the morgue doors. Fully expecting Alexi to sense him, he started to back out, but Alexi and Kat looked up before he made his escape.
“Olivia,” Kat said. “Have you met Captain Temple?”
Spotted, with nowhere to go, he entered the morgue as Alexi moved toward him, her hand outstretched. Desperate to avoid contact, he sneezed in his right palm, and Alexi withdrew her hand.
“Sorry. Fall allergies.” He dug in his handbag for a tissue, wiped his hand off, and extended it toward Alexi.
Sliding her hand into her pocket, she shook her head. “That’s fine. I was leaving anyway.” She retrieved the two vials from the holder and held them out.
As he stepped closer to Alexi, he awaited her shifter response to him, but none came. Puzzled that he stood so close to her and she didn’t appear to feel anything, Owen took the vials carefully, only touching the bottoms of the tubes.
“I need an analysis on these as soon as possible,” Alexi said.
Nothing in her voice indicated any suspicion or caution, so he held his ground, still searching for a sign the powerful shifter standing in front of him could tell he was not in his natural persona. Nothing.
“Katrina will fill you in, Olivia,” Alexi continued, then walked past him, coming within inches of his shoulder.
Since, in his shifted form, he could sense her so well, he should have been off the scale on her shifter radar. Baffled, he replied in as normal a voice as he could muster, “Right away, Captain.” As she left, his gaze followed her. What was wrong with her? She should have made him the second he entered. He was certain she’d known a shifter entered her office the day he delivered the flowers to Kat. What just happened made no sense.
Turning to Kat he asked, “Does she come in here a lot?”
“No.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. Nice to know he wouldn’t have to be on guard all the time. He turned the vials in his hand. “What’s the story on these?”
Kat pointed to a body lying on a morgue table. “They came from this victim. We need a toxicity analysis to check for anything in the blood stream or saliva which might give us a hint as to what killed him.”
His gaze followed her motion. With a jolt, he realized the man he’d killed last night lay on the table. Panic rose, and his breath caught in his throat. If they started testing for toxins now, had his other victims’ deaths been ruled heart attacks, just like he’d planned?
He eased out his breath. Had he gotten away cleanly with those killings? The poisons he injected into his targets were untraceable unless you checked specifically, and their effects mimicked heart attacks. Why test this victim now? What made him different from the rest?
He pushed the worry down. Didn’t matter. They handed him the very things which would point to his murder weapon. He wouldn’t test for the poison he knew killed his victims. Doing so would eliminate any incriminating evidence, indicate a heart attack, and he’d be home free.
After placing his handbag in the desk drawer, he donned a lab coat and dropped his cell phone into the pocket. As he did, he noticed he had a message from his mother. Thumbing on the phone he read the text.
Where are you? I’ve been calling. Need to see you ASAP.
He keyed in a reply. Lunch at Rogueman’s?
What time?
“Katrina,” he asked, “what time do I get lunch?”
“You just got here and you want to go to lunch?”
“Parent,” he said, pointing to his phone. “She needs to see me, and I’m a pushover when it comes to Mom.”
Her brows drew together and two vertical creases formed above her nose. She stared intently at him, looking like she was trying to pull something from the recesses of her brain.
“Sorry,” he said. “Guess I should tell her I can’t come.”
“No, that’s not it at all. We have to take care of our parents. After all, we owe it to them, don’t we?”
He wasn’t sure he owed her anything, but she was his mother. Bad or good, and she’d never been the latter.
“Noon,” Kat said. “Unless you need to go earlier. I could switch with you.”
He thumbed in the info and waited for the answer.
“Noon is fine. Thanks, Kat.” As he pocketed his phone and headed toward the lab with the vials, he wondered why his mother needed to meet him, especially since he had seen her the night before at the bar.
His mother sat with her back to the wall at a corner table in Rogueman’s. As Owen made his way toward her, Johnny came behind him with a tray of drinks.
“What’ll ya have, Owen?” he asked.
“Nothing today.”
Johnny’s red eyebrows rose. “Are ya giving up the drink?”
“I’ve got a job. Don’t want the boss to smell beer on my breath when I go back to work. I’m meeting Mom. Can you see we’re not disturbed?”
“Sure thing.” Johnny served his tray of drinks and headed back to the bar.
Sliding onto the chair across from her, Owen asked, “What’s so important I had to leave work?”
“We didn’t finish our conversation last night.”
Groaning, he rolled his eyes at her.
“Don’t give me that attitude, Owen. I’m worried about you and how deep you’re getting in with Falhman.”
“I’m handling it, Mom, and I’m handling him.”
“You don’t handle Falhman. If you think you are, you’re way too cocky.” She shook her head, worry creasing her normally smooth face. “I should have never let you take Roc’s ring and read the inscription.”
“That’s a switch. All my life you wanted me in your world and now that I am, you’re holding me back. You taught me what I needed of the shifter world to protect myself, but not what I needed to take down Roc’s killers.”
“Is that why you booted me off as your mentor?”
“Yes.” He raised the hand with Roc’s ring. “I can do a lot more than you think.”
She slapped his hand down onto the table. “You’re letting the perceived power from his ring go to your head. He was not invincible and neither are you.”
Powerful shifter tingles from her touch buzzed through his hand, and he jerked away. “If he wasn’t invincible, then neither is his brother. He caused Roc’s death, and I’m taking him, and his wife, down. I want to make him grieve like he made me, like he made us, grieve when Roc died, then I want to put him in the ground. Permanently. Since I
know Falhman wants Alexi gone, I can use him and his plans to my advantage.” Owen gave her a smug smile.
She leaned toward him, grasping his hand more gently this time. “I’m begging you, Owen, please don’t follow this path. Let it go. Revenge on Roc’s killer isn’t worth the price you’ll pay.”
Extricating his hand from hers, he said, “You avenged my father’s death. Don’t you want to avenge Roc’s? I thought you loved him.”
“Sometimes love is geographical, Owen. A thing of convenience. An emotion not worth getting killed over. If you kill Rhys, Falhman will kill you. I couldn’t bear losing you, too.”
He stared deep into his mother’s eyes. Concern swirled in her face and from her very being. No hidden agenda, like she usually had when they argued. Just pure concern . . . and love. The depth of emotion coming from his normally manipulative parent surprised him.
“You’re not going to lose me, Mom. I promise. But I can’t stop now. I’m already in too deep.”
She slumped back in her chair. “I was afraid you’d say that. If you’re not going to stop doing Falhman’s bidding—”
“I’m not, until I’ve accomplished my goal,” he interjected.
“Then I’ll let you know what I find out. I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. He’s up to something big, and I’m afraid he’s framing you to take the fall.”
He remembered the RFID key he had stashed in his room. He had to agree with his mother. You didn’t go around implanting RFID keys in the arms of people unless you were planning something huge.
No way would he take the fall for Falhman like some low-life mimic. He was the son of Sylvia Jordan Riley and Baron Jordan, two very powerful shifters, and he possessed the ring of Roc Decker, a potential Promised One. Somehow, he’d stay on the top of the food chain and take down every shifter he could.