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I sprang to my feet, stake in my hand. “Enough,” I commanded. The shadows vanished into thin air.
“Okay, suppose you were telling the truth—”
“I am!” The swirl of darkness still confirmed he was truthful or at the very least believed what he said.
“Do you have proof?”
He gave me a grim smile. “I do.”
“Lead the way then.”
As I followed him out of the building I had to admit, vampire or no, damn, he did have a great ass.
Chapter Three
The morgue was an unexpected destination tonight. At least from this side of the grave. I tried to ignore the chemical smell of disinfectant and the faint, sweet odor of decay that would no doubt lodge itself into my nostrils for the next few weeks.
“What are we doing here? Oh hey, wow, what are you doing?”
Redmond started opening various cold lockers and pulling out bodies. “I need to show you something.”
“If you’re about to pack out your dick, spare me.”
My stake gripped firmly in my hand I walked over to where he stood. He’d given me back my stake and my dagger. Color me surprised. Guess he thought he could take me, even armed. If he even blinked wrong, we’d find out. I trusted this creature as far as I could throw him. But then again, he could have killed me while I was out cold. Or when I was tied up.
My breath caught when I saw the girl lying on the slab. She’d been fifteen, tops, when she’d died, but that wasn’t what made my eyes widen. Redmond pulled back her lips to reveal two sharp fangs protruding from her pale gums. She’d been halfway through transitioning into a vampire. Vampire transformation gone wrong?
Redmond pulled the sheets off another stiff, uncovering the body of a young man, not much older than the girl. Scales curled up his arms, his nose sunken into his skull. Claws had replaced his hands. I couldn’t even look at the third. The small hand and the fine blond curls poking out from under the sheets were enough. My fingers curled around my stake until my knuckles were white.
“So, what? The Sprout of Alyria does exist? Didn’t you just tell me it didn’t exist?”
Redmond scoffed. “The Sprout is a myth like I told you. Someone’s been experimenting on these kids.”
He bent his head, brows furrowed as he looked for something.
“Smart, hiding the needle marks with these. But look here,” he continued, pointing to two jagged puncture wounds in the girl’s arm. Upon closer inspection I saw a much smaller hole was next to the two larger ones, hard to see due to the discolored flesh.
“That could be anything. Maybe she had bloodwork done, or she was a junkie,” I argued. But who was I fooling? These bodies weren’t drained. Not a vampire’s work. A vampire would never let fresh young blood go to waste.
“I’d be able to smell drugs if she’d been using. Her blood smells clean. Clean, but not right.”
“Not right?”
“Human. But vampiric at the same time. And other things.”
I tried to make sense of what I saw. Only the girl showed any signs of vampiric mutation. All young, healthy humans. Unfortunately for me – and my therapist – I’ve seen all corpses aplenty. But never ones like this.
“So, who’s your prime suspect, Sherlock?” Then realization dawned on me. “You think it’s the Agency? That’s why you dragged me here.”
“I know it’s the Agency. Someone got wind that I’ve been looking into this. You’re the third assassin they’ve sent in a few weeks.”
“The Agency would never—”
“Experiment on people? On witches to be precise?”
I scoffed. “Someone’s been experimenting on witches?”
The vampire leaned closer. “Witch blood has a unique bouquet. I would recognize it everywhere. Even dead it makes my mouth water. There’s magic in her blood.”
