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“Geneviève?” Eli asked.
“Alert,” I explained. “It’s alert now.”
“Do not behead it,” he reminded me.
“It shouldn’t want to wake yet, but Ifeelit. It wants to come talk to me.” I felt my eyes trying to shift, to slid into those slits that would bring me the vision of the grave. “Mind the humans, please.”
Eli nodded. “Gentlemen, Ms. Crowe needs a little bit of space to assess the deceased.”
I glanced at the pair of men with Tres. They were average, middling men who wore the sort of suits that were clearly off the rack—the cheap rack, to be specific. Most of my clothes were thrift, so I wasn’t judging. I was merely trying to get a sense of who they were. The one on the left, Suit Two, had a weak valve in his heart.
“See a heart doctor soon,” I told him.
Suit Two frowned, gaze unhealthier than I realized until now.
“You’re dying.” I pressed my magic along his heart, sliding it like a fingertip over the wet warm thing that pumped his blood. It stuttered. I wanted to pet it into health, but I wasn’t a physician. Experimenting with my unexpected surge in abilities seemed like a wretched idea. Was this part of the break of binding my mother had created?
I could tell the suit, though, that his heart wasn’t strong. “Three years, tops.”
“Miss Crowe,” Tres said. He didn’t move away as I approached. It wasn’t the sound of a stranger greeting me. His voice was deep and friendly, and I knew that he was responding to the pulse of magic that was slowly drifting toward the covered bodies on the tables.
I let my magic slide over him, feeling the shape of him. His heart was strong. Muscles taut. I blinked at the longing radiating from him, and then I felt his body respond to my magic.
“Miss Crowe?” Tres’s voice held awe, not just interest, but something closer to devotion.
“Geneviève,” I offered, almost against my will. Perhaps it was the proximity to the corpse, but he was eliciting the same protective urge that the dead did.
Tres smiled, and then he looked guiltily at the suits and the covered corpses. The suits were already looking at me with the same fondness I suspect they’d show maggots. I wasn’t surprised. My eyes were reptilian, not human, and my knowledge wasn’t the sort I ought to have. More than a few people hated witches, and goodness knows, a barbeque or two had been suggested to me over the years.
“The dead don’t mind,” I assured Tres, who was looking appalled when he realized he was nearly flirting over a corpse.
Either way, Tres wouldn’t be smiling in a moment. Most men only found me attractive or interesting when they hadn’t seen my affinity with death. The new abilities were interesting, but they didn’t undo what I was.
I stepped closer to the corpse I was there to see. “Uncover him.”
One of them asked, “How did you know which—"
“I can feel his infection.” I watched as he peeled the sheet back. My grave vision is uncommonly useful with the recently infected. I could see the venom under his skin, like green light. “Between the toes, right? That’s where the injection is. Tell me about him.”
“Mr. Odem was an associate of my father’s,” Tres began, sounding serious and businesslike now. “His widow, three daughters, and seven grandchildren are in mourning. There was no reason to expect him to be…changed.” He paused, awkwardly, as if guilty, and then he said, “I’ve made considerable donations. Legal, of course, but I asked to be notified of any injection sites on recent deceased.”
“No judgment.” I glanced at Tres. “It’s your money now.”
Tres said nothing further, so I let myself draw on even more of my grave magic, letting it drift over the corpse. I found no other traces. Mostdraugrhad a limited capacity for venom. To fully infect the living took several envenomations. They had a limited food supply, so evolutionarily speaking, they were remarkable. There were a lot of fail-safes to prevent overpopulation.Draugrwere the apex predator, and much like a shark on a reef, they needed to have enough food to support them. If every bite was contagious, that would quickly complicate the balance of food to predator. Venom could kill, or weaken, but transformation required a choice.
Aside from the obvious,draugrsure as fuck couldn’t bite someone between the toes.
One of the suits spread the toes of the deceased to look for a mark. “She’s right.”
With my grave vision, I could see the vibrant green of venom. Without my vision, I suspect it looked almost unnoticeable, a minute blemish between the toes. For an older man with a cardiac history, a post mortem exam was probably not as thorough as in the case of a suspicious death. Money changed hands to get this exam and to get me into the morgue.
Eli leaned in, took a picture of the injection, and stepped back. “No diabetes? Social drug use? Vitamin shots even?”
He knew the answer, but it was form to ask.
“Jimmy Odem was a respectable man,” Suit One said.
“And a member of SAFARI?” Eli asked. I knew by the tone of his voice that he recalled the man’s name from the list.
