Body of Evidence

“Well, none of these people are the killer. And not vampires, either. See, they show up in photos.”

It is days like this, that try my very nonexistent soul. I didn’t know whether to smack him, slap my own head, or disembowel him. The problem with the last one, unfortunately, was that I was on a diet. I’d seen what that fool stuffed in his stomach. I would inherit his cholesterol numbers, and that was an issue I’d rather not pursue. The only other purpose would be to ship him to the augeries, and even they wouldn’t trust a prediction from his intestines.

Not to mention breaking cover, of course.

Two or three in the department, they know. They were eyeing me tensely.

Please, people, I’m not that stupid. I didn’t get to be this age by making rash decisions for chitlins sushi.

So I just sighed, pinched the bridge of my nose (ow, a little too hard), and asked softly, “How, in all that’s holy, did you live to make Detective? And how many times were you dropped on your head, as a baby?”

Sometimes, well-delivered insults are all I’ve got. But it’s effective. It stops the flow of stupidity.

“Hunh?”

“Tell me, have you bred yet? Do you have any children?”

“Uhh, no.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” I turned to the rest of the team before he could figure out how badly I’d just insulted him. “Class, care to tell Mister Wet-Behind-The-Ears here, what he’s missing in the deduction department?”

Gianna was the first to snort. “Dude. Those are digital pictures. Everyone shows up – vampire, fae, werewolf, other. If you take up solid space, there’s enough of you for the camera to catch. The biggest exception is glamours – those don’t get picked up, because it’s magic, from the caster, to the mind of the viewer. Which is why it’s important to get physical descriptions from a trained sketch artist to go along with photos. Were you asleep during that whole class, or did your brother take the test for you?”

“Thank you, Miz DeLuca.” I love her, I really do. Sharp mind, sharp tongue. If I could ethically make her my wife, I would. But two hundred years or so of living hell isn’t worth the time it would take to get her through the conversion, even if I did have family support, which I don’t.

“Interesting point, Miz DeLuca. We’ll put a pin in that and circle around later, and no offense is meant to the voodoo practitioners in this room. Detective Smith, you are relived from this case, for abject blithering. Report to the Sergeant for reassignment, while we salvage what we can of your Keystone Cops routine.”

We waited till he shuffled out and closed the door, before devolving into curses. Some were more potent than others, considering that there were, in fact, some voodoo practitioners. I saw at least one carefully-stitched doll being pounded by a wooden mallet. Luckily, it wasn’t activated; I’d hate to lose Pete to an HR scandal.

Gianna had picked up the pictures, flipping through them thoughtfully. She shook her head. “No one I know, so that rules out witches. Folx, I don’t know all of who’s part of what community in this gathering, but I know you all have contacts. No secret of mine, when I take off for both the seasonal quarter holidays, and the cross-quarters. Let me spread these pics out, and get some pads of paper, and a few pens. Whoever recognizes someone, scribble it down, let’s figure out if we can eliminate suspects. Enough bloodless bodies have turned up, let’s prevent one more, okay?”

I saw accusing eyes, but I shook my head as I turned. I’d already looked. No one was familiar to me. But I hadn’t really looked at the victim pictures, so I settled my stomach, and walked away. Those were spread out in one of the back rooms, and not for the squeamish.

But I left the door open. If I had to bolt for an early lunch, I wanted a quick exit. Gory crime scene photos whet my appetite.

Gianna followed quietly. “Okay, so it’s not you. What are you looking for?”

“A pattern we overlooked. One that the others didn’t find.” I glanced from graphic stills, to victim information. “Hmm. All over the city, different times, different moon phases. Same bite mark, though. That is a relief, a hunting pack is quite dangerous. Did Detective Idiot ensure they have all been staked, to prevent their eventual rise?”

She looked startled. “I checked to make sure their souls had left the body, but-”

My dark eyes most likely turned full black. “Call the morgue. Evacuate! Now!” I flew out the door.

They’d gotten the assistant coroner, but the rest had been gotten out safely.

I laugh, when people call a group of ravens a “murder.” You’ve never seen a brood of female vampires feed. It is rare, indeed, to have someone survive the viewing.

I came armed. Well, staked. I was going to break my vow and a few ironclad rules, but I’ll be damned if I let these newly-turned take over. Well, damned again. Once was enough.

They were not used to working together, and I think that’s the only thing that saved me.

Lightning quick, they hissed when they caught my scent. I didn’t wait. I had leverage, and age. I can do some portion of command, so it slows them down. A little. The blood lust overrides, though, which makes things messy.

Ten bodies, risen to an undead state. I brought twelve sharpened stakes, and hoped they didn’t think to pull them out of their sisters’ hearts before I could take them all down.

One, Two, and Three were easy. Centuries ago, I was a knife thrower at a carnival. My stakes are wooden knives, and I keep the skill as sharp as my weapons.

Number Four tried a feint, but stumbled into Number Five, rushing for me. Stab, release, twist, flip, throw, down. Nice, Frederico, you still got it-

Number Six had jumped me and sunk fangs deep, but released me and gagged while I staked her. I’d chugged a whole bottle of pickled garlic on the way over, and planned on chowing down on a pizza with garlic and beef crumble when this was over. When one of my kind goes vegan, we have to do it our way. With centuries to build up immunity, one careful clove at a time.

Number Seven feinted, giving Number Eight time to ceiling-walk over me, then drop. I waited till the last second, spun and ducked, and Eight was down. Seven hesitated; I didn’t.

I heard the door open behind me, and a shouted phrase ripped the air. “Ignis lux! Fiat!” A spurt of what looked like flamethrower effluent shot past my shoulder, and set Number Nine on fire.

Number Ten’s eyes lit up. I knew the voice. I know what newly-raised female vampires are like. I was moving before Number Ten could, to form a shield between Gianna, and certain death.

And Number Nine jumped on me.

It slowed me down.

I saw the fear in Gianna’s eyes. She had a spell-shield wrapped around her, but it wasn’t enough.

I saw red.

I roared.

With one of my kind, there is power. The older you are, the more you can command. The more emotion, the more the power flows. I didn’t earn my rank by knowledge alone.

It slowed the girls down farther. Not enough, but it would turn a kill shot into a maim. I wondered what Gianna would think of that. Her body had been pristine before this…

I caught a wrist, snapped the arm. Fire was sizzling into my backbone, but I had enough time. Twist the arm away from the chest, though a nail caught the collarbone, sliced down to the hip. Fresh, hot blood came out, so tasty, so good…

NO!

My other arm whipped around, stabbed deep into an undead heart. Twist, grab a flaming neck, flip over, but not onto Gianna, who was falling, bleeding, mouth open in shock. Lift, tear, lift more, slam, before Number Nine thought to scramble off of me and onto Gianna. Grab another stake, swing around, stabbity stab, fling away, lunge forward, cushion the bleeding human before they slammed into cold, cold floor.

I always carry a bottle of coagulant. You have your smelling salts, I have mine.

The acrid glue smell cut through my blood lust, as it should. I practically emptied the bottle onto the gaping wound, and watched it seal up nicely. It would scar, but she would live. Once in the hands of the med team, they could clean it up to a supple scar, no sepsis. No further damage.

But then I broke my vow.

I was so hungry.

I made sure Gianna was out cold, wouldn’t see my shame, then I licked the blood off my arms, the floor. I cried, but I did it anyway.

But I summoned help before I dared touch her. It was nice to know I still had a few scruples.

The medic team found me using the alkaline hydrolysis vat. It may not be as certain as a fire cremation, but a lye bath gets the job done.

*******

I got a commendation. For breaking vows, and laws.

Gianna would eye me sideways, till I shook my head. “Look, don’t ask,” I muttered. "You want to become like them? For two or more centuries? Having to be constantly monitored? You’re better than that. You’re better than me.”

She patted my shoulder in sympathy, but stopped giving me strange looks.

But I did catch her in the locker room, nude, glorious, lithe, studying her scar in the mirror.

And that gave me the idea.

*****

We brought in suspects.

We parked them in a chair, had their pictures taken by the obvious digital camera.

Many would balk when they saw the background, a glorious full-length mirror. They would stop, squint, then relax. A nice, bright, shiny, modern mirror.

The second mirror, very antique, silver-backed, quite discreet, stood off to the side, and a second camera would take a profile picture with that one.

That’s why vampires didn’t show up in mirrors, or old time photos. Mirrors were silver-backed, and photos were dipped in silver solution. We forget that, here in the modern age.

And, sure enough, we caught our rogue vampire. Bite mark impressions left no doubt to his guilt, and I took great pleasure in watching him stand trial, his long imprisonment, and even longer punishment.

I was relieved that it was over, though the testifying threw open my secret.

But when Gianna looks at me, now, it’s like she’s eyeing up a serving size.

She invited me over, next week.

To talk, she says.

She says she’s putting triple garlic in the pasta.