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Chase shook his head. "No, but it wouldn't be hard to trace if somebody really wanted to know. Thing is, caller ID was blocked and whoever was on the line sounded pretty damned sure that the FH-CSI was necessary. But when we got here it took a little while to ascertain that the victims had been attacked by vampires. A cursory glance wouldn't have shown anything out of the ordinary. If you can call any murder ordinary. So whoever called me had to know they were killed by somebody other than an FBH."
It was odd to hear the term FBH come from Chase's lips, especially since he was one, but it made sense. The acronym was easier than constantly saying "full-blooded human, Earthside born."
"Were the bodies moved? Could someone have checked to see if they were alive and, in doing so, noticed the punctures?" I stared at the victims. The OIA medical team was still looking them over. Well, they'd been an official OIA medical team until a few months ago—now the Otherworld Intelligence Agency was our baby and we were calling the shots.
"Nope. Don't think so. Sharah said that while there's a lot of blood, the patterns indicate they're right where they were when they died."
"Speaking of blood," I said slowly, gazing at the four bodies that, until earlier this evening, had been alive and—probably—happy people. I was no angel, that was for certain, but I chose my victims from the lowest of the low, which kept me in the clear as far as my own conscience was concerned.
"Yes?" Chase tapped me on the shoulder. He looked a little worried. "Menolly, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I said, shaking off my thoughts. "I'm fine. I was just going to say that there's something else odd about this massacre. There shouldn't be this much blood. There shouldn't be much blood at all unless we're dealing with one incredibly sloppy vamp, and even the grimiest bloodsuckers I know are usually fairly neat and tidy. That's why vamp attacks have generally gone unnoticed over the years. Unless…"
A thought ran through my head but I didn't want to entertain it. There had been a lot of blood when I was turned, and I had the scars to prove it.
"Unless what?" Chase sounded impatient and I didn't blame him. He still had to think of something to tell their next of kin. We weren't passing on information about the demons, nor were we in the habit of telling people that their loved ones had been killed by vampires and Earthside Supernaturals. There were enough locos in the world who would gladly go hunting anybody or anything who even remotely resembled a Supe if they got word that one of us had been responsible for somebody's death.
"Unless they either wanted to hurt these people, or leave a calling card. Are there any scars? Any signs of torture…" As I glanced up, Chase returned my look and I tore my gaze away when I saw the pity in his eyes. I quickly turned and strode over to the bodies, searching their expressions for some sign of pain, of anger.
Sharah was finishing up her notes. She and her assistant, an elf who barely looked old enough to shave, were getting ready to bag the bodies and take them back to the morgue for closer examination. Sharah's gaze flickered up to catch mine, and she softly nodded.
"I don't know yet," Chase said. "There doesn't appear to be extensive damage but we'll know more when we autopsy them."
I examined their faces, but couldn't tell whether they'd been in pain at the end. Mainly they looked surprised, as if they'd been simultaneously attacked. One last surprise for the night. For life.
With a sigh, I stepped out of the way and let the medics get on with their work. Over the past few months, I'd worked closely with Wade Stevens, the brains behind Vampires Anonymous, and we'd managed to enlist promises from at least fifteen vamps who lived in the city to avoid taking blood from the innocent. Or, at least, they took an oath to avoid killing anybody during the process, or leaving them damaged.
We'd developed quite a following, and we were contemplating our next goal, which would be to take control of vampire activity in Seattle and run it like an underground police force. Those who didn't cooperate would be asked to leave or face being staked. Essentially we were aiming to become the Mafia of the undead set. We hoped to inspire other groups in other cities, until vampires could walk among the living without fear of being skewered.
"Wade needs to know about this," I said. "I'll contact him and we'll see if we can find out anything on our end."
Chase nodded. "I appreciate it, Menolly. I really don't know how to go after vampires, except with a butt-load of garlic and a wooden stake. You said crosses don't work…"
"No, they don't. Neither do pentacles, ankhs, or any other religious symbol. All claptrap contrived to give hope to the country dwellers who lived in fear of vampire activity. Of course, sunlight's a sure cure. Fire's pretty freaky, too, but not nearly so dangerous. There are a few spells to ward off vampires. Camille knows a couple, but no way in hell will I let her practice on me, so only the gods know if she can work them right."
He snorted. "It's a crapshoot every time she gets it into her head to cast a spell."
I couldn't help but grin along with him. "Not necessarily. She's getting better at offensive magic, though her defensive and household magical skills leave a lot to be desired. Don't write her off, Chase. She can do a lot of damage if she wants."
Chase relaxed then, and gave me a full blown smile. "Yeah, I know. And so can Delilah. And I already know what you could do to me. But I trust you girls. All of you," he added.
Recognizing the significance of what he said, I accepted the compliment graciously. A month or so ago Chase still jumped whenever I entered the room, and I used his fear to play him to the hilt. We still weren't fond of each other. Much. But I'd developed a sense of respect for the tall, handsome detective who had wooed Delilah's heart. She may not know it, and I was pretty sure Chase was blind as a bat, but the two of them were falling in love. I wasn't about to be the one to tell them. They'd figure it out soon enough on their own.
I silently made my way to the steps leading down to the main entrance of the Delmonico. "I'll get back to you when I've talked to Wade. Meanwhile I suggest you think up a good excuse for why these four died. We can't possibly let out the truth. Too much chance for mayhem. Call me when you know more."
"Right," he said, sighing and turning back to the crime scene. "As if we don't already have enough to deal with."
Silently agreeing, I left the theater and returned to my bar. The night was a frozen wonderland, but all I could smell was blood.
CHAPTER 2
Back at the bar I was in for another surprise, this one welcome. Iris was sitting at the counter, nursing a glass of Granover wine from the vast swath of vineyards that skirted Y'Elestrial, back in Otherworld. Her face lit up when I came through the door and she waved.
"I wondered where you'd gotten to," she said, polishing off the wine and holding out her glass. "Another, please. It's my night off and I don't feel like sitting at home."
Iris was a Talon-haltija, a Finnish house sprite who lived with my sisters and me. She helped by taking care of the house, watching out for Maggie—our little calico gargoyle—and by occasionally whopping a bad guy on the head with her five-pound stainless steel skillet. As pretty as a Norwegian maiden, she was older than all of us, and easily as dangerous. She was also one of my best friends.
"I'm glad you're here," I said, refilling her glass. "We may have a problem."
