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CHAPTER 15
The FH-CSI headquarters had become al -too-familiar territory the past couple of days. We pul ed into the lot and hustled inside, heading for Chase's office, but he cut us off before we could get there, meeting us near the door.
"Come on, we're heading toward the morgue."
We hit the elevator. The second floor of the building--heading underground--was the arsenal and included a number of weapons the Seattle government wasn't aware Chase was stocking. They wouldn't have understood most of them--silver bul ets, garlic bombs, various and sundry custom tricked-out guns.
The elevator glided past the second floor, down to the third--jail cel s for offenders from Otherworld. The fourth floor was the lowest level as far as I knew, though Chase had hinted there might be another, but he wouldn't tel me what for.
Fourth floor was the morgue, the in-house laboratory, and the archives. We stepped out of the car and onto the concrete floor. Camil e let out a long breath. She hated enclosed spaces and only took the elevator under protest because nobody else would do the stairs with her, and in this case, the stairs required specialty clearance badges.
As we fol owed Chase down the hal , her heels clicked a staccato tattoo on the floor, and I found myself listening to them, counting away the steps.
Chase and I'd been together more since we'd broken up than we had the past few weeks. Somehow, that didn't seem like such a great thing now.
We stopped by a set of double doors leading into the morgue. During a rash of vampire risings last December, when Menol y's sire had come over from Otherworld to destroy her, she'd made mincemeat of the morgue, putting fledglings down. Now, you couldn't even tel that damage had been done.
We entered the antiseptic room, and I focused on quieting my suddenly churning stomach. I was stil squeamish about some things, dead bodies included, although they didn't bother me nearly so much as they used to. The shelves were lined with bottles containing rubbery, slippery looking organs and various chemical mixtures. Each was labeled, but I did my best to skip reading what they contained. My stomach couldn't handle placing a name on the gruesome visuals.
Camil e and I were facing a long metal table. Mal en was standing beside it, in ful gown, mask, cap, and gloves. He looked like a mad elfin scientist, with something in his hands that had to be . . . oh crap, it was. A lung. I looked away.
"Have you determined what we're dealing with?" Chase asked.
"Looks like it was a werewolf, al right." His voice was muffled, but his words were clear enough.
I steeled myself and turned back to face the table. What was left of the body had been dissected--or at least it looked that way now. It had been opened up, cut expertly into thin layers as if somebody had been butterflying a chicken breast, and the layers were folded back, held in place by clips.
"What shape was he in when you found him?"
"Like this--opened up like an envelope. Scent glands are missing. Pituitary gland is missing. Adrenals are gone. Testicles are gone. And the heart is gone. Whoever got to this poor guy is using more than just his scent glands, but I don't know for what. They wouldn't need the heart or testes to make Wolf Briar." He slowly folded the face back over the skul , which had a large slice taken off the top so the brain was showing. "Do you recognize him?"
My stomach lurched, and I winced. "No, but Katrina would, if it's one of her friends. Should we cal her?"
"Please. But warn her. We can set it up so she won't see the rest of the body, but there's no way she's going to miss the fact that he's been sliced and diced like your local heifer on slaughtering day." Chase shook his head. "I can't imagine doing this to someone. Harvesting from them."
"There's more than that," Mal en said as Camil e stepped over to the landline on the wal to cal Nerissa and ask her to contact Katrina. Cel phones didn't work underground.
"What more could there be?" I asked, wondering just how far the coyote shifters would go.
"His arms and legs show signs of being manacled. He was bound by something hard, something tight that bit into his skin. The bruising is consistent with--I'd say, iron or steel manacles. Cuffs. And they were tight. Drug tests are due back in a few minutes. We're specifical y looking for steroids."
"Can you imagine . . . you take a beta werewolf, hop him up on steroids til he's in a fighting rage. Manacle him in a cage and intensify his desire to get out. The power and fury that would create is scary to think about."
Unable to look at the remains any longer, I turned away. It wasn't so much disgust or revulsion as imagining what his end had been like. Terrified, most likely cut open while alive to maximize his rage--it made me want to hunt down his murderers and rip them to shreds, slowly.
Camil e rejoined the group. "Nerissa's going to bring Katrina down. She's tough--but this isn't going to be easy for her. Maybe you should have some tea waiting for after? Up in the medic unit?"
"Good idea." Chase punched a button on his walkie-talkie and gave orders. "I suppose you can head out now. Unless you want to wait to see what Katrina says about his identity."
I slowly crossed to the table. His arm was to one side, his hand hanging off the edge. Quietly, I ran my fingers over the indentation--a band of pale skin that encircled his wrist, a startling contrast to the darker tone of his arm.
"It's Paulo Franco," I whispered, bringing the watch out of my pocket. The watchband matched perfectly with the markings on his skin. "And here's his watch. We know where they got him; we know when they got him. We know what they did with him. Now we just find out who did this and hunt them down."
Chase took the watch and glanced at the inscription, pressing his lips together as he read. He slid it onto the tray next to a gold ring and what looked like an earring. "Yeah," he said after a moment. "I think you're right."
"Damn it!" I grabbed Camil e by the arm. "Let's get the hel over to that magic shop and demand a few answers." As I dragged her to the door, I cal ed back to Chase, "cal me on my cel when you have the definite ID, please."
We jogged out to the car. Camil e had taken one look at my face, and I could tel she wasn't even going to try to suggest anything else. She just motioned for me to get in and pul ed out of the parking lot, making quick time.
