“Show off,” she muttered, but Atlas reversed out of the parking lot and peeled off onto the main road like something was chasing us, rock music blasting on the radio.
Five minutes into the ride, I turned it down so we could plan our story once we got to the ME’s office.
“We have our fake IDs,” I said. “We play this like we normally do.”
“What’s that entail?” Marta asked.
“We say we’re Feds,” I explained. “We flash the badges and give them a nice smile. They usually don’t question it.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Does that work?”
“It hasn’t failed us so far,” I said. “Though now that you’ve mentioned it, we’ll probably get held up.”
“It’s just…” She pursed her lips, crossing her arms.
“What?” I looked back at her.
“You don’t look like Feds,” she said. “Neither of you. Not even in the cheap suits.”
“And how do you propose we get past the red tape, huh?” Atlas said in a biting tone. “Just wave your magic fingers and do a Jedi mind-trick on them?”
She shrugged. “There’s an idea.”
“Can you do that?” It surprised and intrigued me. What must it be like to wander through life, knowing you could manipulate anyone you wanted?
“I could,” she said. “But I won’t. The memory charm rarely lasts for very long, and I don’t want to waste my energy if I don’t have to.”
“So, we’re back to square one,” Atlas said. “Wes and I play the Feds, you play the nosy, uptight assistant. That shouldn’t be too hard for you.”
She glared and gave him the finger, but I only snorted and shook my head, facing the front for the rest of the ride.
As it turned out, we barely needed the disguise. The ME was all too eager to have a second set of eyes on her work.
“I’ve honestly been waiting for someone to show up,” she said as she led us to the morgue. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
These rooms always gave me the creeps, but I swallowed it down as the chill washed over me, raising the hair on the back of my neck. Marta and Atlas went first as Dr. Ballard gestured to the six bodies on separate gurneys, each with a white blanket draped over it.
“We read that the cause of death was blood loss,” Atlas said. “Is that your opinion?”
Marta walked to the first body and peeled the sheet back, revealing an older woman with deep gashes up and down her torso. Big chunks had been taken out of her arms and neck, the unmistakable curve of teeth marks indicating how it had been done.
“Technically, yes,” Dr. Ballard said, nodding toward the bodies at the far wall. “Blood loss for some of them, missing vital organs for others.” She pulled open the sheet on a tall male with worse lacerations than the first person. “As you can see, they took bites out of each other while they were engaged in intercourse. They didn’t stop until they were dead, and even then…”
I raised my eyebrows, anticipating her answer even as I suspected what it might be.
“The ones left alive kept eating.” Ballard pointed at the wall of cadaver freezers to my right. “I’ve got four more skeletons in there, nearly picked clean.”
Nausea rolled through my gut, but it wasn’t mine. Marta had gone pale, and, try as she might to hide it, her throat convulsed and she swallowed hard to keep down her breakfast. Of all the missions Atlas and I had ever run, this was by far the most gruesome. Normally, we investigated demon rituals gone awry or some reckless vampire who’d invaded the wrong territory. But this? These were humans with an insatiable appetite for each other. Admittedly, I’d never seen anything so violent.
“I’m still waiting on the tox screen,” Ballard said. “But my guess is some kind of ecstasy laced with a neurotoxin.”
“Do you know of any kind of neurotoxin that could do this?” Marta asked.
Ballard shook her head. “But new stuff shows up on the drug market all the time.”
“Fair,” I said, stepping closer to the older cadaver. “What about strange markings? Notice anything during the autopsy? Any kind of tattoo or brand?”
“Brand?” Ballard raised her eyebrows. “Are you thinking a cult ritual?”
