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“Ah, you speak death as well as you smell of dog. Why do you smell of dog, Miss Morell?”
I turned my head and my nose brushed his, sending shocks through me. He smelled like magic, wild fierce magic that would burn the world to bare fruitless earth. I swallowed hard before I said, “Do you know these other marks?”
His eyebrow rose slightly. “I do. If you tell me why you smell of canine, I will tell you what they are.”
I frowned at him. This was not the time to make pointless deals, but I wasn’t going to argue.
“I got a dog.”
“A guard dog to keep you safe at night? Rottweiler or Werewolf?”
That would probably have been a better idea, although no way I was ever going near a werewolf, much less letting one live with me. “I adopted a bulldog on Saturday. He’s old and was going to be put to sleep if he couldn’t find a home, so I decided to take him.”
He smiled, a slow smile that made him look almost soft in spite of the fangs. “I find you quite charming, Miss Morell.”
“Horace is dead and you find me charming?”
His smile faded slightly. “Is it not the right time? My apologies. I’ll be sure to find you charming later. The marks are revealings, the tortuous kind that have no subtlety whatsoever. Horace resisted all of them, but at the end, his strength was failing and he chose to die rather than reveal whatever truth his attacker was trying to extricate from him. It seems that time was, indeed, of the essence. If you’ll excuse me for a moment…” He turned towards Horace, dropped to his knees, and then bit his body repeatedly, savagely, long fangs piercing him over and over again while I crouched there in horror.
“Stop that!” I yanked on his suit coat, but it was like pushing at a boulder. He didn’t even notice. I hit him once or twice, but only bruised my fists, and he kept puncturing Horace’s swollen skin again and again.
I backed away, wanting to stop him, needing to stop him, but the only things I could do would be lethal, and I was out of practice, and he was very strong, as well as surrounded by his friends who hadn’t touched me even to stop me from assaulting him but would definitely not stand by while I killed him. I ran a hand through my hair, loosening the pins of my tidy bun before I jogged to the counter, looking for something to beat him with. All I found were crayons. Seriously?
I threw them at him one at a time, but obviously, it didn’t do anything useful. He kept biting the dead man until he was finished and stood, turning towards me even as he spoke to his friends in a low voice that I couldn’t hear over my rapidly beating heart. Would he take offense at my physical assault, even if I’d done no damage?
He stalked towards me, fixing his cuffs until he had me backed against the desk. “Miss Morell, I’m taking Horace’s body with me to the lab. If you would like to accompany him and throw crayons at anyone you deem suspicious, you are welcome.” His voice ended in a low growl of warning that made my arms prickle.
“Are you going to give him an autopsy or eat him?” I glared at him as hard as I could.
He raised a brow. “Neither. I’m going to turn him, which I think will be more revealing than cutting him apart, but I could be wrong. We can always chop him up later.” He cocked his head, and I got the distinct impression that he was playing with me.
I licked my lips. “How can you turn someone who’s already dead?”
“A self-inflicted death mark isn’t very decisive. Will you join us below, or would you rather stay here and let the medics in when they come for Bert?”
“You knew his name?” I wasn’t sure why that was important, but it was.
He nodded soberly. “Name, age, work history, medical history, along with how well he golfs. Do you golf, Miss Morell?”
I inhaled sharply. Every time he said my name, it pulled at something inside my chest, something almost painful, that had no business waking up. “You keep using my name.”
“Only part of it, the public part that anyone may use. Would you like me to call you something else? I am open to guidance as to your preferences.”
I swallowed hard. “And you, the Scholar, is that what you prefer to be called?”
“By you? Not remotely. The authorities that you called are about to arrive. If you come with me, you can learn things you never knew before, but if you stay, you will be subject to every known annoyance, including paperwork and explaining the situation repetitively. Endless paperwork, or new knowledge, Miss Morell. The choice is yours.”
He held out a hand to me, nails neatly trimmed, nothing close to the claws I’d seen earlier.
I shook my head. “You can’t turn him. It’s wrong to tamper with his peacefully resting state and force him awake to a new torture. Let him die.”
He smiled gently. “I will consider allowing you to mercifully put him back to sleep after I’ve found out what he was concealing, who killed him, and whether it has anything to do with the fire you’ve studied so ardently.”
“Ardently?”
“I would like your notes, Miss Morell.”
“If I give them to you, will you leave him dead?”
