So, with that said...no, not a lot of bodies in my chosen field. But I had also been recruited to help on other cases. The federal government did that sometimes. Grabbed agents from various departments to work bigger, more complicated cases. Or more important cases.
Yes, I had seen my fair share of examining rooms and corpses.
These days, death meant little to me.
I knew that was the result of the vampire in me, the killer in me, the predator in me...or her in me. She was trying to steal my humanity, my sympathy, to make me more like her, and less like the rest of the world.
Like the good Librarian had said, she didn’t have power over me.
Go away, I thought, wondering how much of me she could hear. Go far fucking away.
No, I had never heard her before, nor had I seen her or experienced her in any way, other than my enhanced powers and cursed affliction, all courtesy of her.
However, I had seen firsthand the evil that bubbled up to the surface when Kingsley had transformed into his hybrid form. Not to mention, just a few months ago, I had conversed and fought with perhaps the most powerful entity of all.
Her brother, in fact.
As I thought these thoughts, and as the good doctor waited for us patiently, I was very aware that Sanchez was staring at me again.
Not so cool anymore, is it? I asked.
Detective Sanchez said nothing, just glanced at me some more, then we both turned our full attention to the victim under the blanket. The stench of cleaning agents was strong in the air, scented ammonia and bleach being the predominant odors. Mostly, though, I detected another smell. The decay of rotting flesh. The victim wasn’t in advanced decay, and so her stench wasn’t very strong, but I could smell it clearly. Perhaps most disturbingly, it didn’t bother me. Not at all. Perhaps most disturbingly, I thought I liked it.
Something is seriously wrong with me.
“Jesus,” whispered Sanchez next to me, clearly picking up on my thoughts.
Scratch that last, I communicated silently to him. I’m dealing with something here...something in me. Something I may or may not explain to you.
He nodded, although he looked shaken, and not because we were standing over a body.
“Did you witness the autopsy?” I asked Sanchez aloud.
He nodded. “I did.”
If the autopsy had bothered him, he didn’t outwardly show it. Still, I sensed the mild revulsion ripple through him, and as it did so, I caught a brief glimpse of memory as he’d watched them use a bone saw around her scalp and lift out her brain.
He shuddered again. I didn’t shudder. I was intrigued.
Lord help me.
I looked at the medical examiner, who was watching me with an eternal calm that might have made Half Dome in Yosemite envious. I said to him, “And what were your conclusions, Doctor?”
“She bled to death.”
“May I see the wound in her neck?” I asked. There was a chance—a very small chance—that I might have asked this question a bit too eagerly. Sanchez glanced over at me again. I was making the poor guy nervous. Hell, I was making me nervous.
The doctor nodded and reached down and pulled back the sheet. The woman’s face—a face I recognized from two nights ago, although that woman had been in a very different form—in spirit—was stapled back in place below her jawline. Her pretty face had been peeled back during the autopsy to expose the skull. Now, her face had been positioned mostly back into place, although it was slightly askew. I glanced at where some of the curled, unattached skin hung loose.
Fascinating.
Except, of course, I knew that I wasn’t fascinated. She was fascinated...the thing that lived within me.
Freaky bitch.
The pathologist had us step around to his side of the examining table, which would have been the right side of the woman’s neck. Yes, there was the gaping wound. I could see bruising and red, raw, hanging flesh. I noted the arched openings. Bite wounds.
“Looks human,” I said.
“We believe so. We recovered human saliva along the opening, as well. The carotid artery was bitten clean through. She lost, precisely, half of her blood. Enough to bleed to death.”
“One problem,” said Sanchez, hovering somewhere above me. “We only found evidence of about a quarter of her blood.”
“So, she bled elsewhere,” I said, playing devil’s advocate. Or, perhaps, the devil in me was just playing advocate.
Sanchez shook his head. “There’s evidence that the attack took place on the trail, where she was also found. We didn’t see any evidence that she was moved. We believe she bled to death where she was attacked.”
“Except we’re missing a quarter of her blood.”
“Yes.”
I glanced at the pathologist. “Are we being recorded?”
“No, the cameras are turned off. They’re only turned on if someone wishes to view an autopsy from an adjacent room.”
“From the safety of a TV monitor.”
He didn’t smile. Death was serious business. “Something like that. The smells can be a bit overwhelming at times.”
That I was enjoying the smells, I kept to myself...and to Sanchez, who glanced at me again. I stepped closer to the medical examiner.
Can you hear me, doctor? I thought.
He cocked his head slightly, then nodded.
I’d learned last year that vampires can control others. To what extent, I didn’t know. Truthfully, I didn’t want to know. But something within me—the devil within me, I suspected—enjoyed controlling others. Needed to control others.
But I needed to now.
And I was enjoying every moment of it.
Good, I thought. You are to destroy any evidence that links her death to a human. Your official report will state she died of an animal attack. We’ll call it a rabid coyote. Understood?
The good doctor stared at me from over his bifocals, then nodded.
Delete all computerized files and destroy all written reports. Additionally, erase the cameras.
The doctor nodded again, and soon, Detective Sanchez and I stepped out of the laboratory and into the air-conditioned hallway.
To say that Sanchez was looking at me warily would be an understatement. “What happened in there?”
“We have to keep this on the down-low. You can appreciate that.”
“No, I mean...all that creepy shit. You really enjoy death that much?”
“No,” I said, answering truthfully. “She does.”
“And who’s she?”
“Another place, another time.”
Chapter Fifteen
We were sitting in Sanchez’s squad car in one of Griffith Park’s many entrances. I noted we were parked in a handicap spot.