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"I hope they'll be okay." I couldn't bear it if something happened to Kitten because of me.
"They're strong, they're experienced." Roz shrugged and handed me the purse the woman I'd staked had been carrying. "Here, you might want this… to identify her with. Come on, let's get to the morgue. I hope we're not too late."
I carried the purse gingerly. Within it were the last things she'd touched. Dredge had purged her of her life. I'd purged her of her death. I could only hope she was walking with her ancestors.
We were only a few blocks from the Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigations building where Sharah had ordered the new bodies brought. As we screeched into the parking lot, we saw Trillian and Chase climbing out of the car.
"What the hell took you so long?" Trillian asked. "Stop for a drink or something?"
"Shut up, Svartan. We came across the first four newborns in the park, harvesting more victims. Three of them got away. The other vamp is on his way to a holding pen for now."
"And their victims?" Chase asked, paling.
I stared at him, daring him to comment. "They carried two of them off with them—one a teenaged boy. The third we dusted. She was already starting to turn."
He paled, then rushed to the building with me hot on his heels. Roz and Trillian brought up the rear. Roz was readying stakes and tossed one to Trillian, who grunted, catching it lightly.
I paused at the door. "Here we go again. Take two on Stake-That-Vamp. Let's go see what we have. If they already rose, Sharah's in a heap of trouble." I pushed open the doors and once again, we hustled down the stairs to the morgue.
During our trip the other day, I hadn't noticed the surveillance cameras but now they stood out, near the magical detection that allowed the guards upstairs to track OW guests and prisoners. As we raced by one of the sensors, it started to howl.
Chase pulled out his gun, turned, and shot it point-blank. As the ward exploded in a fiery shower of sparks, he let out a low laugh. I stared at him. "What the hell are you on, Johnson?"
"Just blowing off steam," he said.
Trillian grunted something to him that I couldn't hear.
The morgue was in the basement and as we approached the doors to the second examination room, I could sense that something was terribly wrong. We were too late. I knew it in the center of my core. I pushed ahead and slammed the doors open, flipping on the lights. Three steel slabs lay empty, sterile sheets draped on the floor, no longer pristine.
"Oh, hell! They've risen. Watch your backs." I immediately slid into reconnoiter mode, circling the room, stake at the ready.
"Sharah!" Chase let out a harsh bark as Trillian moved to cover him. I traced the scent of the freshest batch of newborns. Three more vamps on the loose. With the three that we'd lost in the park and their two new victims, that meant at least eight under Dredge's control.
They could be anywhere—in the building or out of it. I just prayed Sharah had gotten out of the way.
"Chase, stay with Trillian and keep an eye on each other. I'm going to explore the back. Roz, cover me." I headed toward the backroom off the morgue, where they performed tests and disposed of the remains.
Roz swung in behind me as I raised my booted foot and slammed it against the door. The sound of ripping metal shrieked as the hinges twisted and the heavy metal door fell, toppling into the other room. I leapt over it, Roz right behind me.
I'd only seen this backroom one time before, when Sharah gave us a tour during the post-Christmas party Chase had thrown for the FH-CSI team. The walls were lined with cupboards and sinks, counters filled with serrated knives and bone saws and dental hooks, and instruments that I didn't even want to fathom the uses for. The room was lit by a dim fluorescent light, and the scent of decay undermined the sterile odors coming from the antiseptic soap and bleaches used to clear away the traces of the dead. The last stop on the train. No more journeys, no more travels in the current body. That is, unless they'd been given their tickets by Dredge.
"Every cupboard—open and check." I slammed open door after door, looking for any sign of Sharah or the newborns. There were bottles of liquid with hearts and eyes and livers floating in seas of formaldehyde, bottles of blood, and bottles containing items better left unidentified. But no vamps.
Roz took the other side and we worked in silence until we came to the end, facing the other door. Without a word, I took the front and he covered my back. As I shoulder butted it, the wood shook, then splintered as the lock gave way.
The hall was dimly lit—again the low shimmer of fluorescent lighting—and it led to bathrooms and a fire exit. The fire exit was open, the wires to the alarm cut. I stuck my head outside, staring at the greenbelt that lay beyond the back of the building. They were gone. I could smell their essence, but they'd passed through and left.
I turned back to see Roz pointing at the women's bathroom.
"Someone in there?" I said, barely whispering. He nodded.
I slipped over to his side and cautiously cracked the door. The bath held a shower and two toilet stalls, and I could hear a faint whimper coming from one of them. I recognized the voice.
"Sharah! Sharah, is that you? It's me, Menolly. Come out." I carefully made my way over to the stall. What if they'd attacked her, turned her, and she'd already risen? Vampiric elves could be freakier than regular vamps. Like vampiric Fae, their powers were usually stronger and darker. And with elves, the change went against their basic natures and usually sent them over the edge into madness. Very few found their way back.
The door to the toilet stall swung open. Sharah staggered out. She was hurt, that much was obvious, with blood dripping down her shoulder and from her wrists. But her mouth was clean and I caught no sense that she was one of the undead. She was still alive.
"Quick, did they make you drink from them?" I asked, tossing my stake to Roz, who caught it and kept watch on the door to the hall.
