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Slimy meat creeps down my neck. “Thank me by getting a collection bag.”
“Right.” He hurries away.
If I thought the stench was bad before, now it’s ten times worse, and not likely to get better until I can shower.
My thoughts race, searching for a connection between Lethoba’s murder and the other victims.
Vicki is obvious. She had a dependence on the demon. But Shawe hated demons and anyone who associated with Others. He wouldn’t go anywhere near magic, and this murder reeks of it. There’s no other way for a black dog to have come and gone in the middle of the Bone Yard so quickly.
Sharpe returns with a bag and rubber gloves to scrape the yuck off me.
Taking shallow breaths, I turn back to the crime scene.
Walker hunches over the body, digging through the remains as if the explosion never happened. She bags pieces and calls out instructions for the labels.
When she lifts out a large, spiky sac, she freezes before turning to Sharpe and me, her eyes serious behind her protective goggles. “I think we have something.”
We pick our way through the viscera splattered on the sidewalk and crouch next to Walker. The stench worsens, and I swallow to hold down the bile.
“At a guess, this is the demon’s food processing organ.” Walker rotates the sac toward us. “But this doesn’t look demonic to me.”
A black brand stands out starkly from the pink flesh in a language unfamiliar to me, the loops and whorls neither witch nor demonic.
Sharpe sucks in a breath, and I turn to him. “You recognize it?”
“I’m not sure.” He squints, tilting his head from one side to the other. “It feels familiar.”
Dread slithers down my spine. “Something from your past?”
“I don’t know.” He lets out a frustrated curse. “More like it’s something I should know, not something I’ve encountered.”
The apprehension grows. That could only mean fae, but the fae left this world long ago. “Maybe Syl’vyn will know?”
“I’ll ask.” He takes a picture and steps away from us to make his call.
I turn back to Walker. “Good job. Keep collecting whatever you can find. Every detail matters.”
With a nod, she slides the spiky sac into an evidence bag.
I rise to my feet and join Sharpe as he hangs up. “Was she able to help?”
“Yes, she didn’t withhold information for once.” He shifts with restless energy. “She said it’s the symbol for Gluttony.”
“Dammit.” The word tickles a legend from my memory, and I use two fingers to pull my phone from my pocket.
Slime streaks the screen, and I wipe it on a clean patch of my shirt before I punch in Meredith’s number.
“My plane just landed,” she says by way of greeting. “If you’re planning a welcome party, I’m margaritaed out.”
“Good, that means you have internet access.” Aware of how good some demons’ hearing is, I lower my voice. “I need you to check the autopsy reports for Vicki and Shawe.”
Her tone sharpens. “Anything specific that I’m looking for?”
“Symbols burned into an organ.” I describe what the one inside Lethoba’s body looks like.
“Give me five minutes.” She hangs up without saying goodbye.
Minutes stretch by beneath the hot sun, and the gunk that seeped into my clothes slowly baking to a hard crust.
