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Bastard.
I couldn't work up anything more than annoyance, though. The momentary twinkle in his pale blue eyes was just too cute for my hormones to ignore, and when they were interested in someone, everything else went out the window.
"Latest technology," he said. "I hear the labs are currently working on units that are actually mobile."
"Well, I'm sure that development will just rock your little socks off."
"Just as much as killing rocks yours, I imagine."
"Which just goes to prove some clean-team members don't have very good imaginations."
The mobile unit beeped. "Area scanned."
"Then let's go take a look, kemosabe."
He looked at me like I was weird. Obviously not a big Lone Ranger fan. I resisted the temptation to smile as he walked across the room and stopped next to the sofa covering the woman. After studying the floor for several seconds, he looked over his shoulder at me. "It's safe to move. You want to grab the other end?"
"For you, anything."
He gave me the sort of look that would surely have silenced anyone with a bit of sense. Of course, I wasn't anyone. Once again restraining my smile, I walked carefully across. This close to the woman, the scent of excrement was almost overwhelming. I wrinkled my nose and wondered how the hell Cole coped with it all. He had to hit smells far worse than this in the course of his work, which had to be a nightmare when you had a nose as sensitive as a wolfs. I couldn't imagine doing it myself - not day after day, month after month.
But then, I couldn't imagine being a guardian for the rest of my life either - and right now, that was the only option I had.
After righting the sofa, the reason for the smell became obvious. The woman was naked and lay on her back, her arms pinned underneath her body and legs akimbo. The bruising on her thighs suggested rape, and the bruising on the rest of her body said she'd fought it as hard as she could.
And whoever had raped her had ripped apart her neck and sucked the life out of her. But they hadn't been satisfied with that. Oh no. Because they'd then turned around and shit on her. The evidence of it lay between her breasts, watery and reeking to hell.
"Vampire shit," Cole said. "Very few other creatures produce excrement that diluted."
I looked up to find him studying me. "What?"
He waved a hand at the brown fluid. "That is the waste product of a vampire, and probably a baby one at that. Older vamps tend to have less color and form. Baby vamps are generally still shaking off their 'humanness' and tend to produce something vaguely resembling regular waste matter."
"Seems I learn something new about vampires every damn day." Although vampires' waste products wasn't really something I'd ever wanted to think about, let alone know.
"I've never seen a guardian look as furious as you do right now." He cocked his head a little, expression hinting at surprise and curiosity. "It's almost as if this death offends you."
"And a senseless death doesn't offend you? It doesn't offend you that some bastard shit on this woman after he'd raped and killed her?"
He shrugged. "I've seen too much for something like this to offend me."
I snorted softly. "And you think I'm the cold-blooded monster?"
"Cold-blooded killer," he amended softly. "There is a difference."
Not enough to matter, I'd warrant. I looked back at the woman and saw for the first time that she had dark skin and dark hair. This had to be Dunleavy's girlfriend if the old girl in the first flat had her descriptions right.
So, if Gautier was responsible for Dunleavy's death, who had been in here, taking care of the girlfriend?
My gaze rose to the mess of her neck, and the excrement. My stomach twisted, and an odd sense of foreboding crawled up my spine. I turned around, studying the remnants of glass and furniture scattered about the room. Eventually I found what I was looking for, facedown on the brick hearth. I rose and walked over to it.
Picked up the photo frame and saw the dark-haired woman and the child within it. I closed my eyes for a second, cursing the unfairness of fate.
"Why the interest in the photo frame?" Cole asked.
"Not the frame, but the photo within it." I turned it around and showed him. "See the child in the photo? We found her last night. She died this morning."
"So whoever did this wanted the child?"
