For a Few Demons More

'Can we go in now?' Glenn grumbled, and Iceman gave me an embarrassed smile before returning to his desk, steps fast to make his open lab coat furl. Sighing, the FIB detective pushed open one of the double doors for me.

Actually, I was really glad to have the toe tag. It had been made with the intent for use and therefore was imbued with a strong connection that a ley line charm could use to target me. Better I have it than someone else. I'd get rid of it safely when I had the time.

Past the door was another, to make an airlock of sorts. The smell of dead things grew, and Jenks landed on my shoulder, standing right by my ear and the dab of perfume I'd put on earlier. 'Spend a lot of time down here?' I asked Glenn as we entered the morgue proper.

'Fair amount.' He wasn't looking at me, more interested in the numbers and index cards slid into the holders fastened to the people-size drawer doors. I was getting the creeps. I'd never been to the city morgue before, and I dubiously eyed the arrangement of comfortable chairs around a coffee table at the far end that looked like a reception area at a doctor's office.

The room was long, having four rows of drawers on either side of the wide middle space. It was storage and self-repair only, no autopsies, necropsies, or assisted tissue repair. Humans on one side, Inderlanders on the other, though Ivy had told me they all had pull tabs inside in case of accidental misfiling.

I followed Glenn to midway down the Inderland side, watching him double-check the card against a slip of paper before unlocking the door and yanking it open. 'Came in Monday,' he said over the sound of sliding metal as the tray slid out. 'Iceman didn't like the attention given to her, so he gave me a call.'

Monday. As in yesterday? 'The full moon isn't until next week,' I said, avoiding the sheet-draped body. 'Isn't that early for a Were suicide?'

I met his deep brown eyes, reading a sad understanding. 'That's what I thought, too.'

Not knowing what I would see, I looked down as Glenn folded the sheet back.

'Holy crap!' Jenks exclaimed. 'Mr. Ray's secretary?'

A sour expression fixed on me. When had being a secretary become a high-risk position? No way had Vanessa committed suicide. She wasn't an alpha, but she was pretty damn close.

Glenn's surprise turned to understanding. 'That's right,' his low voice rumbled. 'You stole that fish from Mr. Ray's office.'

Irritation flickered through me. 'I thought I was rescuing it. And it wasn't his fish. David said Mr. Ray stole it first.'

Eyebrows bunched, Glenn seemed to think it made no difference. 'She came in as a wolf,' he was saying, his manner professional as his eyes lit on only the bruised and torn parts of her naked body. A small but gorgeous koi tattoo swam in orange and black across a high patch of her upper chest, a permanent sign of her inclusion into the Ray pack. 'Standard procedure is to turn them back after the first look. It's easier to find the cause of death on a person than on a wolf.'

The smell of dead things in a pine forest was getting to me. It didn't help that I was running on empty. The coffee wasn't sitting well anymore. And I'd known the SOP, having briefly dated a guy who made the charms to force a shift back to human. He was a geek, but he had lots of money—it wasn't an easy job, and no one wanted it.

Jenks was making a cold spot on my neck, and not seeing anything out of the ordinary—other than her being dead and her arm torn to the bone—I murmured, 'What am I looking at?'

Nodding, Glenn went to a low drawer at the end of the room and, after checking the tag, pulled it open. 'This is a Were suicide that came in last month,' he said. 'You can see the differences. She would have been cremated by now, but we don't know who she is. Two additional Jane Wolfs came in on the same night, and they're giving them a little extra time.'

'They all came in together?' I asked, going over to look.

'No,' he said softly, gazing down at her in pity. 'There's no connection other than the timing and that none of them can be found in the computer. No one's claimed them, and they don't match any missing-persons report— U.S.-wide.'

From my shoulder came Jenks's muffled voice saying, 'She don't smell like a Were. She smells like perfume.'

I winced when Glenn unzipped the bag to show that the woman's entire side had been ravaged. 'Self- inflicted,' he said. 'They found tissue between her teeth. It's not uncommon, though they're usually a lot less brutal than this and simply open a vein and bleed out. A jogger found her in an alley in Cincinnati. He called the pound.' The faint wrinkles around Glenn's eyes deepened with anger. He didn't have to say that the jogger had been human.

Jenks was quiet, and I searched for cool detachment as I examined her. She was tall for a Were, but not overly so. Big up top, with shoulder-length hair that curled gently where it wasn't matted. Pretty. No tattoos that I could see. Mid-thirties? She took care of herself, given the definition. I wondered what had been so bad that she thought the answer was to end it.

Seeing me satisfied, Glenn opened a third drawer. 'This one was hit by a car,' he said as he unzipped the sturdy bag. 'The officer recognized her as being a Were, and she made it to the hospital. They actually had her turned back to treat her, but she died.' Creases appeared in his brow as he looked at her damaged body. 'Her heart gave out. Right on the table.'

I forced my gaze down, flinching at the bruises and skin split by the accident. IV tips were still in her, evidence of the efforts to save her life. Jane Wolf number two had brown hair as well, longer this time, but it curled the same way. She looked the same age and had the same narrow chin. Apart from a scrape on her cheekbone, her face was untouched, and she seemed professional and collected.

Running in front of a car wasn't uncommon, the Were equivalent of a human jumper. Most times they weren't successful, landing under a doctor's care, where they should have been in the first place.

I followed Glenn to a fourth drawer, finding out why Jenks was being so quiet when he gagged and flew to the trash can. 'Train,' Glenn said simply, his voice soft with regret.

Coffee and lack of sleep were warring in me, but I'd seen a demon slaughter, and this was like dying in your sleep compared to that. I think I was earning points with Glenn as I looked her over, trying not to breathe in the scent of decay the chill of the room couldn't stop. It appeared as if Jane Wolf number three was as tall as the first woman and possessed the same athletic body build. Brown hair to her shoulders. I couldn't tell if she had been pretty or not.

Seeing me nod, Glenn zipped up the bag and shut the drawer, closing all of them on his way back to Vanessa. Not entirely sure why he had wanted me to see this, I trailed behind him.

Jenks's wings were silent as he returned, and I gave him a sympathetic smile. 'Don't tell Ivy I lost it,' he asked, and I nodded. 'They all smell the same,' he said, and I felt him hold on to my ear for balance as he stood as close as he could to my perfumed neck.

'Jeez, Jenks, they all look the same to me.' But I don't think he appreciated my attempt at humor.

Glenn's steps slowed to a halt, and we gazed at Mr. Ray's secretary.

'Those three women were suicides,' he said, 'the first one dying by self-mutilation, as Mr. Ray's secretary appears to have died. I think she was murdered, then doctored up to mimic suicide.'

I glanced at him, wondering if he was looking for ghosts in the fog. Seeing my doubt, he ran a hand over his short, curly hair. 'Look at this,' he said, leaning over Vanessa and picking up a limp hand. 'See?' he said, his dark fingers circling her thin wrist in sharp contrast to her pale skin. 'That looks like a bruise caused by restraints. Soft restraints, but restraints. They aren't on the woman who made it to the hospital, and I know they had to tie her down.'

Okay. Now I was interested. Maybe Vanessa had been into sex games and it went too far? Leaning forward, I agreed that the soft red ring could have resulted from a restraint, but it was her nails that caught my attention. They had been professionally manicured, but the tips were split and ragged. A woman considering suicide doesn't pay beaucoup bucks to get her nails done, then tear them up before she can end her life properly. 'Where was she found?' I asked softly.

Glenn heard my interest and flicked me a grin that quickly sobered. 'Under a dock in the Hollows. A tour group spotted her before she could get cold.'