[Anita Blake 17] - Skin Trade (19 page)

“We looked at one body that had claw marks on it. Shapeshifters of some kind. The doctor made noises that there might be more bodies like that, but most of it's blades.”

Edward and Bernardo looked behind us. I didn't look, because I was pretty sure what I'd see.

“Before he gets to us, I need to know what he did to upset you, Anita,” Edward said.

“I don't know if I can explain it, Edward. The pathologists didn't buy that human hands had made the wounds because my hands were too small, so I borrowed Olaf's hands to show the size.”

Edward let me go and started for the big man. I grabbed his arm. “No, Edward, Olaf learned things from the wounds on the other bodies. He really did. His expertise with a blade and torture was valuable. Even Dr. Memphis was impressed.”

Edward wasn't looking at me but down the hall.

I talked faster. “We didn't learn as much from this body, from him, because it was claws, and that's my area. I let him boss me around, Edward, more than I should have, because he had been smart about the other body. I let him manipulate me until I just broke. It wasn't his fault. He was just being him, and I forgot for a second, Edward.”

Edward looked at me then and wrapped his arm around me. It was so unexpected that I tensed. He looked at me, and it was not the least romantic. The look was intense, angry, and down deep in his eyes, a flash of fear. He was afraid for me. Edward was never afraid, almost never.

“Don't ever forget what he is, Anita,” he whispered, as he leaned in. “When you forget that they're monsters, they kill you.” He kissed me on the cheek. I know he did it for Olaf's benefit. I know he didn't kiss me on the mouth for his and my benefit. It would have been too weird.

I gave startled eyes to Olaf as he came closer to us, pulling off his gown. The gloves had already gone in the trash. He looked from me to Edward, but finally just at Edward. “What has she told you?”

“That it wasn't your fault. That she let you manipulate her because you had been smart with the other bodies. That your expertise with blades and torture had been helpful.”

Olaf looked surprised, and his voice matched. “She did not lie.”

“Did you think I'd come out here and lie, say you'd been a big, bad man, and ask for help?”

He put those deep-set eyes on me and nodded. “Women lie, and they use men against each other. It's what they do.”

I shook my head and pushed away, gently, from Edward. “I don't do shit like that. I let you manipulate me, and that won't happen again, but I knew better. I let you . . . get in my head. And I knew better.” I slapped my chest with my hand, hard enough to hurt. “I knew better. I don't ask anyone to protect me from my own stupidity.”

“It took you longer than I thought it would to realize that you know more about shapeshifters than I do. You could have just refused me entry to the room.”

I nodded. “Yeah, stupid fucking me.” I walked away then, shaking my head. I had to get away from Olaf and Edward and Bernardo's interested eyes. I'd had enough testosterone for the day.

Dr. Memphis called from down the hallway. “Marshal Blake, may I speak to you for a moment?”

I looked past the other men to the doctor. He was still in his gown, no gloves, like Olaf. Shit. I'd let Olaf spook me; I wouldn't make the same mistake twice. I walked past them all and pointed a finger at the big guy. “You stay here. The two of you keep an eye on him, so I don't have to.” Then I walked past all of them and went for the doctor. I'd put another gown on, another mask, more gloves. I'd look at the damn bodies on my own because Olaf was right—I knew lycanthropes better than any of the rest of them. I would look at these bodies on my own, and God willing, I'd learn something that could help us figure out what the fuck was going on.

“Is Marshal Jeffries coming back in?” Memphis asked.

“No,” I said, and walked back through the doors.

 

 

THEY HAD FINISHED undressing the body when Memphis walked me back inside the room. It lay bare and very unalive. It looked like a body now, without the clothes, and the wounds like bright tears on the skin.

From across the room I could see that the groin was bloody. I couldn't tell how bad the damage was from here. I didn't really want to know how bad it was, but as usual I had to see it all. Crap.

Rose either had taken all the pictures he needed or was too shocked to take them. He stood there, with his camera forgotten in his hands. The other two techs were no better. Dale had busied himself with something at the cabinets. Patricia went to stand by Rose and turned her back.

“Anyone who needs to leave can do so,” Memphis said.

Dale went for the door without a word. “They were friends,” Rose said, and that was enough.

“Patricia,” Memphis said, “do you need to go?”

“No, doctor, no, I'll stay. I didn't know him as well as Dale did, and there are some of the . . . I did know some of them better. I don't want to work on them, so I'll stay.” She turned around, pale, lips thin, but a determined look on her face. She'd do.

“Rose?” Memphis asked.

“I'm okay, doctor. It's not that I knew him. I'm being all wimpy about the wound. Sorry.” He nodded. “Sorry, I'll do better.” He raised the camera back up and started snapping.

I walked around the body so I could see the wound closer. Not that I wanted to see it, but it was an odd wound. Of course, once I was on the other side, I could see the inside of the right thigh clearly. Someone had sliced it open from groin to almost knee. The femoral artery would have been toast. You bleed out from that in fifteen, twenty minutes tops. You can save yourself if the wound is low enough for a tourniquet and medical help is coming. But whoever sliced him up didn't want him saving himself with first aid.

Whatever he might have been once as a man, now he was just bloody, but . . . the genitalia were intact, or looked it. The only way to be certain was to touch them and see, and I didn't want to know that badly. I had to peer a lot closer than I wanted to, but I was right, the wounds didn't actually go across the genitalia, more around them. “When are you going to wash the blood away?”

“Yes,” Memphis said, “we'll be able to see those wounds more clearly when we've finished cleaning the body, but we wanted you to see it first.”

I looked up at him. “Why?”

“You're our shapeshifter expert,” he said.

“You have shapeshifters in Vegas,” I said.

“We do, but they wouldn't be allowed near a lycanthrope kill.”

“Yeah, same at home, so you have to make do with me.”

“If half your reputation is real, Marshal Blake, we aren't making do.”

I looked away from his too-intense eyes. He wanted me to solve this. He wanted me to help them catch the thing that had killed their people. I wanted to help, but I hated that feeling of pressure. The sensation that if I missed the clue there was no backup. I thought about calling Edward in, but wasn't sure I could call in part of my backup without getting the rest of it back. I was done with Olaf for the day if I could manage it.

I peered as close to the wounds as I could. “It looks like the claws were driven in around the groin, deep, but straight in and out, no tearing.” I stood up and gestured at the thigh wound. “Not like that.”

“Was it more than one shapeshifter?” Rose asked.

It was a good question. “Could be, but I don't think so. This up close and personal, there just isn't room for two to fight. I'm not discounting it, but all these wounds are so debilitating that once it happened, there wouldn't be any need for two shapeshifters to fight this man.”

“His name was Randall Sherman, Randy,” Memphis said.

I shook my head. “No names in the morgue. I function because it's a body. I'm sorry that he was your friend, but I can't think of him that way and do my job.”

“I thought you had to have a name to raise the dead,” Patricia said.

“Yes, but none of these bodies will be able to be raised.”

“Why not?” Patricia asked.

“Murder victims tend to go after their murderers, first and foremost. They maim or kill anything that gets in their way, including innocent civilians.”

“Oh,” she said.

I stared down at what was left of Officer Randall Sherman and cursed Memphis for giving me a name. I don't know why it can make such a difference, but suddenly I looked at him, not at a body. I noticed that he was tall and athletic, and had spent a lot of time staying in shape. He was probably on the other side of thirty, but it had been a good early thirty. All that work, to be strong, to be fast, to be the best, and some monster comes by and is stronger, faster, and better, just because of a disease in its blood. No amount of weight lifting or jogging would ever make a human being the equal of a shapeshifter. So unfair, so true.

“What kind of hair did you find on the body and clothes?”

“We found human hair, but no animal hair,” Memphis said.

I looked at him.

“Yes,” he said, “you can look surprised. I've seen two other shapeshifter kills, and we found a lot of animal hair at both. You can't get this close to someone and not shed on them, but this shifter cleaned the body of hair so we wouldn't know what it was.”

I shook my head. “Not necessarily, doc. You can police your brass, but not the little bits and pieces of your body. I saw the crime scene. It was a hell of a fight, and there was no time to clean up like that.”

“Then what did the creature do? Did he wear a suit?” He touched his own suit.

“I doubt it,” I said, “but a really powerful shapeshifter can do a partial shift.”

“I know a manwolf or mancat form,” Memphis said.

“No, I mean the really powerful ones can shapeshift just the hands into claws, and the feet. I saw a werewolf climb the side of a building like that.”

“That was one of your cases?”

“I don't know what you mean by that, but I saw the bastard do it.”

“He used claws to shove into the building?” Patricia asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Wow, shades of Spider-Man,” Rose said.

“More Wolverine,” I said, “but the principle's the same.”

“He got away,” Memphis said.

“Temporarily,” I said.

“How did they catch him?” Patricia asked.

“I got them to approve werewolves to track the rogue werewolf, then I killed him.”

“What do you mean you killed him?” she asked.

“I mean, I walked up to him and put a bullet between his baby blues.”

Her mouth made a little soundless
O
. Rose said, “Just one bullet?”

“No,” I said.

“Back to the case; you can listen to war stories from the marshal after we've caught our man.”

“Sorry, doctor,” Patricia said.

“Sorry, doc.”

“So you think we have a very powerful shapeshifter that did this.”

“I'm pretty sure, and that means that it's a very small pool of suspects. There aren't that many shifters in any city that can do it. Maybe five in a large animal group. Maybe one in a small.”

“Do you think the shapeshifter cut up the other men?”

“No, it's almost like whatever did it had multiple arms. An arm for every blade.”

“Do you know any preternatural creature that has multiple arms, Marshal?”

I thought about it. “There are a lot of mythologies with many-armed creatures, but none native to this country. And frankly, Dr. Memphis, none that I'm sure are real and in existence today.”

“So hard to tell fact from fiction when we live in a world where myth is real,” he said.

“Some of it's extinct,” I said.

“Whatever killed Randy Sherman wasn't extinct,” he said.

I felt that unpleasant smile curl my lips and was glad it was hidden behind the half mask. I wouldn't want to scare the civvies. “We'll work on making it extinct.”

“You'll need a warrant of execution,” Memphis said.

“Four dead police officers. One obviously dead by wereanimal attack. Getting the warrant won't be the problem.”

“I suppose so,” Memphis said, not like he was entirely happy about it.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“It's just that I signed the petition that they took to Washington to try to get the Domestic Preternatural Endangerment Act repealed. I believe that the warrants for your job are too broad and violate human rights.”

“You're not alone.”

“Now, all I want is for you to get the bastards that did this; I don't care that the warrant is based on bad law. So that makes me a hypocrite, Marshal Blake, and I'm not used to thinking of myself that way.”

“You've seen vampire and shapeshifter victims before,” I said.

He nodded. “Not here, though. Vegas has one of the lowest rates of murder by preternatural means of any city in the United States.”

I widened my eyes. “I didn't know that.” In my head I thought,
Max and Bibiana run a very tight ship.
Out loud I said, “Is this the first person you knew who died like this?”

“No, first friend, though. I guess if I really believed my convictions, that wouldn't make a difference.”

“Emotion always makes a difference,” I said.

“Even for you?” He looked at me when he asked it.

I nodded.

“I've heard the screams when the executioner has to stake the vampire during the day. They beg for their lives.”