Last to enter was Zee.
That story about the skull cups with jeweled eyes had not surprised Adam. Some of the Gray Lords in the local reservation had been considered gods—and they still walked softly around Zee. The only one who didn’t, Uncle Mike, was, in Adam’s judgment, the kind of person who ran toward danger rather than away.
Mercy treated Zee like a grumpy old mechanic, and that’s who he had become. Belief like that was important when dealing with magic. The longer Zee wore his glamour, his disguise, and the more people believed in that version of the Smith, the more the disguise became real.
Belief was important.
Adam’s wolf approved of Zee because he made their mate safer. Adam took great care to treat Zee the same way Mercy did, tried very hard to look at the stringy muscles and thinning hair and see only a tough old man. But he never forgot how dangerous the old iron-kissed fae was.
The interior of the coroner’s office was decorated in government cheap and long-wearing. It smelled like death. While a feral part of Adam came to alertness, the coroner, an Indian man in his early fifties, greeted George and Tony like old friends.
“Rahul, Tony and I’ve brought a couple of extra people,” George explained. “This is Zee Adelbertsmiter. Zee, Rahul Amin. We’re here to look at Aubrey Worth and Sarina, last name unknown.”
Amin gave the old man in the greasy mechanic’s overalls a professional smile. He did a pretty good job of professionalism when Adam was introduced, too, making an effort to treat Adam as he would any other visitor. He almost succeeded.
Adam had grown used to being a local celebrity, and he enjoyed the more recent addition of hero status because it meant fewer people were outright afraid of him. Like Mercy’s sword—her late sword—the locals viewed him as protection for them and not a dangerous weapon that could backfire. That attitude made everyone a little more safe.
“Dimitri, our specialist, won’t be here until tomorrow,” the coroner said as he led them through the door into the morgue proper. “So I have to ask you not to touch the bodies.”
“Of course,” Adam said.
The morgue was dominated by the large refrigeration unit on the wall opposite the door they entered by. The floors and walls were covered with materials chosen for easy cleaning. It could have been the kitchen of a high-end restaurant except for the smells. The whole room had a meat locker scent—fresh meat, old meat, old blood and new. Food.
Once upon a time he would have fought to put that thought to the back of his mind, but he’d accepted that he was a monster, that the wolf did not care what kind of meat he ate. He also was not much bothered by the smell of rotting flesh.
“Who do you want to see first?” Amin asked. “Fair warning, Sarina spent a couple of days at room temperature.” He glanced at Zee and Adam. Evidently the police officers were presumed to have stronger stomachs than the civilians.
“It is of no concern,” Zee said. “The woman first.”
Amin, not having expected the decision from that quarter, glanced around at the others. George nodded at him. With a small shrug, the coroner pulled open a metal drawer.
The room was small for the five of them. Adam fell back, and caught Tony’s and George’s eyes so they did the same, leaving Zee and the coroner the space around the dead woman.
Her face was unharmed, and from it, Adam judged Sarina the witch to have been a well-preserved sixty. Her sleek black hair was short and sharply defined even after the indignities her body had suffered in dying and afterward. She’d worn her makeup heavy, nearly stage level. A spray of blood droplets scattered across the pallor of the cheek nearest Adam. Her blood-red lipstick was smeared.
The photos George had shown them had been accurate, as far as they went, but had missed the point. Viewing the actual body, it was obvious that though the wounds impacted the front of the woman, the worst of the damage was to the sides. The cuts were deep—the body nearly severed in two places that Adam could see clearly from where he stood.
He’d seen a lot of dead-by-violent-means bodies over the years, enough to form opinions of his own. The weapon had been wielded by someone who was stronger than a human, but it was in need of sharpening because the cuts were ragged. He also thought that the damage done reflected pretty accurately the scenario Zee had demonstrated at the kill site rather than George’s original version.
Zee ran his left hand over the body about an inch from her skin, and Adam was pretty sure that if he’d had Mercy’s senses, the room would have been filled with magic. As it was, the hair on the back of his neck was standing up. The old fae had a sour look on his face—which was his standard thoughtful expression. Adam was pretty sure Zee had not found anything that surprised him.
Adam wondered if he should warn the coroner that this corpse would be a target of any gray witch who knew about her—though Amin’s specialist should be able to tell him that. What could have spooked Helena, the witch who owned the antiques store, so she had not taken the corpse herself? What had scared her?
Like any predator, most gray witches had no problem with squeamishness. She had stopped to take photos. Why hadn’t she taken the body? Or parts of the body—the organs were the most useful, and there was no sign that anyone had tried to take the dead witch’s heart or liver.
“Zee?” Adam was starting to think he should have insisted on bringing Mercy in, and not because he was worried about leaving her alone. “Could you learn more if you touched the corpse?” As Helena presumably had—before leaving not only the crime scene but the whole city. What had she discovered?
“Ja,” he said, straightening up. He glanced at the coroner and said, “But we are guests here. I am ready to look at the boy.”
The second corpse hit Adam unexpectedly hard. He’d seen a lot of bodies, a lot of death, and nowadays, unless the dead person was someone he knew, he was generally unaffected. But Aubrey Worth was—had been—Jesse’s age.
While his daughter had been half a block away watching a movie, someone had ripped Aubrey’s flesh open, spilling his life onto a polished cement floor. He’d had plans, people he loved who loved him back. Now there would be a hole in the world where his life had previously fit.
They would find his killer and make sure that no more people died before their time. Adam made himself think about something else before his wolf decided to show itself.
The coroner must have figured out that Zee was scary while Adam was distracted. Or maybe he’d added two and two and gotten five when Adam asked Zee about touching the body. Whatever the reason, Amin had quit trying to make conversation and moved a few steps closer to Tony and George, without abandoning his post near the drawer. He looked a little protective of his dead charges, as if he was fighting not to put himself between Zee and Aubrey Worth’s corpse.
Zee began by treating the young man’s body the same as he had the first. But when he was done using his hands, he put his face quite close to the body. Amin looked as though he was going to protest—but Tony put a hand on his arm. Not restraint, exactly, but requesting cooperation.