For a Few Demons More (14 page)

Two trips to the morgue in as many days,
I thought, hoping I wasn't starting a pattern. My gardening sneakers were silent on the cement; David's steps beside and a little behind me were heavy with a deep depression. Kisten was behind him, and the vampire's obvious unease would have been funny if we weren't trooping down here to identify three Jane Wolfs.

The focus was in my bag now, silent and quiescent this far from the full moon. It still held the chill from David's freezer and made a cold spot against me. Experience said that next Monday it would have shifted from a bone statue of a woman's face to a silver-sheened wolf's muzzle, dripping saliva and making a high-pitched squeal only pixies could hear.
I have to get rid of this thing.
Maybe I could use it to pay off one of my demon marks. But if Newt or Al sold it in turn to someone else and it started an Inderland power struggle, I'd feel responsible.

We reached the end of the stairway, and with the two men trailing behind me I turned smartly to the right and followed the arrows to the double doors. “Hi, Iceman,” I said, smacking the left side of the swinging door open and striding in as if I owned the place.

The young man sat up, pulling his feet from his desk. “Ms. Morgan,” he said. “Holy cow, you gave me a start.”

Kisten slunk in after me, eyes darting everywhere. “Come here often?” he asked when the kid behind the desk put down his handheld game and stood.

“All the time,” I quipped, extending my hand to meet Iceman's grip. “Don't you?”

“No.”

Iceman's attention flicked from me to Kisten, finally lingering on David, standing with his hands at his sides. His enthusiasm to see me dimmed as he realized we were here to identify someone. “Oh, uh, hey,” he said, his hand slipping from mine, “it's great to see you, but I can't let you in there unless you have someone from the I.S. or the FIB with you.” He winced. “Sorry.”

“Detective Glenn is on his way,” I said, feeling bouncy for some reason. Sure, I was here to identify a corpse or three, but I knew someone Kisten didn't, and that didn't happen often.

Relief turned him back into a young kid who should be serving smoothies at the mall, not morgue minding. “Good,” he said. “You're welcome to sit on a gurney while you wait.”

I glanced at the empty gurney against the wall. “Ah, I think I'll stand,” I said. “This is Kisten Felps,” I added, then turned to David. “And David Hue.”

David pulled himself together and, finding a professional air, came forward with his hand extended. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, rocking back as soon as their handshake ended. “How…how many Jane Wolfs do you get on average a month?”

His voice carried a hint of panic, and Iceman went closed, sitting back behind his desk. “I'm sorry, Mr. Hue. I really shouldn't—”

David held up a hand and turned away, head bowed in worry. My good mood vanished. A sharp cadence of hard-soled shoes in the outer hallway brought our attentions up, and I puffed in relief when Glenn's powerfully built frame came through the door, his thick hand holding the heavy metal easy and his dark skin and pink fingernails standing out against the stark whiteness of the chipped paint. He was in his usual coat and tie, the butt of a pistol showing past his jacket. Angling himself, he slipped in almost sideways so he wouldn't have to open the door entirely.

“Rachel,” he said as the door swung shut. His gaze lit on David and Kisten, eyebrows settling into a closed cast of FIB officialness. David's confidence had degraded into depression, and Kisten was nervous. I was getting the distinct impression he didn't like it down here.

“Hi, Glenn,” I said, conscious of my less-than-professional appearance in sneakers, faded green T-shirt, and dirt-marked jeans. “Thanks for letting me get you out from behind your desk.”

“You said it was about the Jane Wolfs. How could I refuse?”

David's jaw tightened. The reaction wasn't missed by Glenn, and his gaze softened, now that he understood why David was here. I could feel Kisten behind me, and I turned to him. “Glenn, this is Kisten Felps,” I said, but Kisten had already pushed forward, smiling with his lips closed.

“We've met,” Kisten said, grasping Glenn's hand and giving it a firm shake. “Well, in a manner of speaking. You were the one that downed the waitstaff at Piscary's last year.”

“Using Rachel's splat gun,” Glenn said, suddenly nervous. “I didn't…”

Kisten released his hand and stepped away. “No, you didn't tag me. But I saw you during the wrap-up. Good shooting. Accuracy is hard to find when your life is on the line.”

Glenn smiled to show his flat, even teeth. He was the only FIB guy I knew besides his dad who could talk to a vamp without fear and knew to bring breakfast when knocking on a witch's door at noon. “No hard feelings?” Glenn asked.

Shrugging, Kisten turned to the double doors leading to the hallway. “We all do what we have to do. It's only on our days off we get to be ourselves.”

You aren't kidding,
I thought, wondering what kind of a mess Kisten was going to find himself in if Piscary got out. I wasn't the only one the master vampire had unfinished business with. And while Piscary
could
hurt Kisten while he was still in prison, I had a feeling that the undead vampire enjoyed drawing out the fear of the unknown. He might forgive Kisten for giving me Egyptian embalming fluid to incapacitate him, seeing the betrayal as the act of an unruly, rebellious child. Maybe. Me, he was just ticked at.

His shoes scuffing, David came forward. “David. David Hue,” he said, eyes pinched. “Can we please get this over with?”

Glenn shook his hand, his expressive face turning to a professional detachment I knew he used so he could sleep at night. “Of course, Mr. Hue,” he said. The FIB detective glanced at Iceman, and the college kid
tossed him the Bite-Me-Betty doll with the key. As he caught it, the rims of the upright, meticulous FIB officer's ears darkened in embarrassment.

“Rachel?” Kisten murmured as we all headed that way. “Ah, if you can get a ride home with David, I need to fly on out of here.”

I stopped. Glenn turned from holding the door open for me. Through it I could see the comfortable seating arrangement and Iceman's work partner puttering around with a clipboard, peering over his glasses at us.
Kisten is afraid of the dead?

“Kisten…” I coaxed, not believing it. I had wanted to stop at The Big Cherry on the way home to pick up Glenn's tomato fix, at a charm shop for the lilac wine, and just about anywhere for a box of birthday candles for me in the hopes that a cake might be in my future. But Kisten backed up a step.

“Really,” he said. “I have to go. There's some rare cheese coming in today, and if I'm not there to sign for it, I'll have to go to the post office and pick it up.”

Rare cheese, my ass. And I hate not having my own car.
Hip cocked, I took a breath to complain, but David interrupted with an easy, “I'll get you home, Rachel.”

Kisten's eyes were pleading. Giving up, I muttered, “Go on. I'll call you later.”

He jiggled on his feet, his usual poise gone to make him look charmingly vulnerable. Leaning in, he gave me a quick kiss on my neck. “Thanks, love,” he whispered. His hand on my shoulder tightened, and with a quick hint of teeth he sent a spike of desire to my core.

“Stop that,” I whispered, gently pushing him away and feeling myself flush.

Grinning, he retreated. With a self-assured nod to the rest of the men, he stuck his hands into his pockets and sauntered out.

Lord help me,
I thought, pulling my hand down from my neck. I had the feeling he'd just used me to restore his confidence. Sure, he was afraid of the dead, but I was his girlfriend, and apparently proving it in front of three other guys had reaffirmed his masculinity. Whatever.

My face was still warm when Glenn cleared his throat. “What?” I muttered as I entered before him. “He's my boyfriend.”

“Mmmm-hmm,” he murmured back, shaking the Bite-Me-Betty
doll to make the key jingle. The living vamp intern checking tags left at Glenn's look. It was just us and whatever newly dead vamps were cooling their heels until dark.

David was cracking his knuckles when Glenn stopped beside a drawer, eyeing the Were. “You think you know these women?” he said, and I bristled. There had been more than a hint of distrust, his need to have someone to blame for their deaths, coming to the fore.

“Yes,” I interjected before David could open his mouth. “He has a couple of girlfriends he can't reach, and since he was holding something for me that the right person would kill to get, we thought it better to check it out so we could sleep at night.”

David seemed relieved at my explanation, but Glenn wasn't happy. “Rachel,” he said as his short fingers worked the key, but he didn't open the drawer. “They are Weres. Technically this isn't a FIB matter. If someone calls foul, I could be in a lot of trouble.”

I could sense David's rising fear and anticipation, and I wondered if that was why Kisten had left. Though not directed at him, it would have pushed his buttons. “Just open the drawer,” I said, starting to get mad. “You really think I should bring Denon into this? He'd have David in the tower and under a spotlight. And besides,” I said, praying I was wrong, “if I'm right, then this
is
a FIB matter.”

Glenn's brown eyes narrowed, and with David's brow pinched, the FIB detective opened the drawer. I glanced down at the harsh sound of the bag opening, seeing the pretty woman in a new light, imagining her fear and the pain of turning into a wolf and not having a clue. God, she must have thought she'd been dying.

“That's Elaine,” David breathed, and I took his arm as his balance wobbled. Glenn tripped into detective mode, his gaze bright and his stance stiffer, more threatening. I told him to be quiet with my eyes. His questions could wait. We had two more Pandora boxes to open.

“God, I'm sorry, David,” I said softly, wishing Glenn would shut the drawer.

As if hearing my unspoken request, he slowly slid Elaine away.

David's face was pale, and I had to remind myself that though he could take care of himself and was no slouch when it came to confidence, these were women he had known intimately. “Show me the next one,” he said, the scent of musk thickening in the closed air.

Glenn ripped a jotted note from his daily planner and tucked it in behind the ID card before going to the next. My stomach was in knots. This wasn't looking good. Not only was there the problem that David was involved in the accidental deaths of three women, but now I was going to have to explain to the FIB why they had human birth certificates.

Crap on toast. How in hell was I going to handle this? Every master vamp in the country, every alpha with delusions of grandeur, was going to be after me, the former to destroy the focus, the latter to possess it. Pretending to throw it off the Mackinac Bridge wasn't going to work a second time. Maybe…maybe it had been a fluke. Maybe Elaine had been a Were and she'd only told David she was human, knowing he wouldn't date a bitch.

Glenn unlocked the second drawer, and when we were arranged, he unzipped the bag. I watched David instead of Glenn. I knew the answer when his eyes closed and his hand trembled.

“Felicia,” he whispered. “Felicia Borden.” He reached to touch her, his trembling fingers brushing her brown hair. “I'm sorry, Felicia. I didn't know. I'm so sorry. What…what did you do to yourself?”

His voice cracked, and I darted a glance at Glenn. The FIB officer nodded. David was ready to lose it. We had better get the hard part over fast.

“Come on, David,” I soothed, taking his arm and pulling him a step back. “One more.”

David broke his gaze from her, and Glenn swiftly shut the drawer with the sound of scraping metal. The only one left was the woman who had been hit by a train. It probably hadn't been a suicide. Most likely she had snapped under the strain of a first transformation without pain relief or understanding, blindly fleeing in search of an answer. Or perhaps she had been lost in the glories of her newfound freedom and had misjudged her new capabilities. I almost hoped it was the latter, tragic though it would be. I didn't like the idea that she had gone insane. It would only mean that much more guilt for David.

I stood with David to the right of the last drawer. Realizing he was holding his breath, I slipped my hand into his. It was cool and dry. I think he was starting to go into shock.

Glenn opened the last drawer reluctantly, clearly not eager to show David the ruin of the woman's body.

“Oh, God,” David moaned, turning away.

My eyes pricking with tears and feeling helpless, I put my arm over his shoulder and led him to the informal seating area where relatives waited for their kin to awaken. His back was hunched, and he moved without thought, grasping the back of a chair before falling into it.

He slipped out from under me, and I stood over him as he put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. “I didn't mean for it to happen,” he said, his voice sounding dead. “It's not supposed to happen. It's not supposed to happen!”

Glenn had shut the last drawer and was making his way to us with an aggressive FIB swagger. “Back off,” I warned him. “I see where you're going, but he didn't kill those women.”

“Then why is he convincing himself he didn't?”

“David is an insurance adjuster, not a killer. You said it yourself—they were suicides.”

David made a harsh sound of inner pain. Turning to him, I touched on his shoulder. “Ah, hell. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that.”

He didn't look up as he said flatly, “They were all alone. They had no one to help them, to tell them what to expect. That the pain would go away.” His head rose, and he had tears in his eyes. “They went through that alone, and it was my fault. I could have helped them. They would have survived if I had been there.”