Addict (Hunter #2)(51)

“I don’t,” I replied flatly.

The baby vamp eased up to me, and I caught the edge of his persuasion. It wasn’t the first time some idiot vamp had hit on me. Acceptable females were few and far between in our world. “I’ll explain it all to you, sweetheart.”

Henri rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to excuse Casey, dear. He only turned last year. I’m afraid his vampire life has not been what he expected.”

Casey frowned. “It kind of sucks, forgive the pun. I got killed in a professional accident.”

“You were skateboarding,” Henri corrected.

“It was going to be a profession. I was getting good. I should have worn a helmet…and maybe watched for oncoming eighteen-wheelers. So anyway, I wake up and there’s this big, scary dude standing over me.”

“We tend to refer to him as Your Highness,” Henri pointed out.

Casey ignored him. “He tells me I’m a vampire and…that’s like totally awesome because I thought I was dead and shit. I’m thinking, yeah, vampire. They get all the chicks, and they are so hot in Hollywood right now. They have to drink blood and at first, that’s like whoa, yuck, but then…wow. Awesome stuff. Only then I find out I’m some sort of egghead vampire.”

“I prefer the term academic.” Henri turned to me with an all-suffering expression on his face. “He required a patron. Marcus, Hugo, and I drew straws.”

I knew who’d drawn the short one. I patted his back sympathetically. “Sorry. It’s for the best. Marcus would have killed him by now.”

Henri shrugged as he pulled out a tray covered in sharp instruments. “Casey is excellent with technology. He can fix almost anything, and I don’t even understand half of what he can do with a computer. He’s actually valuable when he’s not talking. I try to tell myself that I most likely made my own patron want to throw himself on a stake in the beginning.”

“So who’s the chick?” Casey waggled his slightly bushy eyebrows at me invitingly. His persuasion purred across my skin. It tried to tease and tantalize. I was used to Marcus’s power, and this boy moved me not an inch. “Please say she’s for me.”

Henri moved into position over the draped body on the autopsy table. “She’s Marcus’s mistress. Feel free to hit on her. I’m sure Marcus will be amused.”

Casey went completely white. “Shit. Look, Henri, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. We don’t have to tell him, right? He’s busy and stuff.” Casey turned back to me and now his persuasion was a little stronger. It was good to know his survival instinct was stronger than his libido. He didn’t want me to talk to Marcus. “I didn’t really hit on you. I mean, I hit on everyone. It’s not a big deal.”

“She’s also our Hunter,” Henri continued. “Kelsey, please show him.”

I did so. I gently shoved him out of my brain. Casey’s eyes got wide, and his hands flew to his head.

“Owww.” He groaned and his hands massaged his temples. “That hurt. What the hell?”

Hugo’s head came up off the desk, his sleepy eyes amused. “Did the obnoxious bugger try to hit on our Hunter?”

“He did, indeed,” Henri confirmed. “He’ll have a headache for hours.”

“Nice one,” Hugo mumbled as he stretched his big frame. “Good morning, dear. I hope you had a lovely, albeit truncated, sleep. Have we gotten to the autopsy already?”

Hugo came to stand at my side, his clothes slightly rumpled. He reminded me of a college professor. He tugged on a pair of gloves from the box on the table.

Henri threw back the drape that covered the corpse, and I tried to view the body in an intellectual fashion. Whatever had animated Alan Kent was gone. His spirit, soul—whatever you want to call it—had fled this life. Now his body was my best evidence.

“How did he die, Henri?” Just hours after death, he was already past full rigor and well on his way to decomposition. Supernatural creatures decompose very quickly. It was why Henri couldn’t wait to perform the autopsy. Within a day or so, we would likely be left with nothing but soup.

“His wounds would not heal,” Henri explained. He handed me a pair of latex gloves, and I slid them on.

Alan’s belly showed deep puncture wounds. He’d caused them with his own claws, though Marcus had been behind the injury. I doubted he would feel guilty about it. It brought up a few questions, though. “I know Alan’s not exactly the strongest shifter in the world, but he should have been able to heal that, right?”

“Absolutely.” Henri had a scalpel in his hand. “Something else is wrong. I can’t be completely sure until I open him up. From the wounds, I would guess that he didn’t sever anything important. The king and his guard were able to keep the claws from sinking too deep. He, perhaps, perforated the large intestine. This should have healed quickly. I’ve known weak shifters to survive much greater wounds.”

“Gross.”

I glanced over to find Casey standing beside me. His mouth was pulled back slightly, giving him a general look of distaste.

I ignored the baby vamp, who better get used to gross stuff. “So why didn’t he heal? Did anyone try giving him blood?”

By blood, I didn’t mean a transfusion, per se. In our world, vampire blood is the ultimate medicine.