Soul Taken (Mercy Thompson #13)(60)

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.

Ignoring the silent argument, Zee closed his eyes and inhaled. Adam knew about scenting things. Sometimes holding the air in your lungs for a couple of seconds and then letting the air back out through your nose gave you a different take on subtle scents. He didn’t think that the old fae’s nose was as good as a werewolf’s, but he could have been wrong.

He was watching quite closely, so he saw the moment Zee froze. The old fae’s eyes opened, but Adam had the impression he wasn’t looking at anything. Zee’s eyes were usually some intermittent shade between blue and gray, but now they were the color of a shimmering silver blade, with neither pupil nor white in evidence, and the air in the morgue acquired the sharp scent of ozone and potential danger.

Zee closed his eyes again and took in another breath. When he straightened at last and opened his eyes, they looked stormy but human. Then he frowned slightly and turned to Adam.