Val shook his head. "The sex started out consensual, I think. And she smells like she's been dead maybe three hours. Not more than four."
Sniffing the air carefully, Christine concurred, her chocolate-brown eyes filled with worry. Lifting the victim's purse, she grabbed the wallet inside.
"What on earth could have done this?" she asked, glancing through the wallet.
"You mean what in hell," Val said savagely. Even after all the years he had lived, death was never a pretty sight. He knew it was never a welcome one for mortals.
"You think we're looking for some sort of demon work?" Christine asked.
Val shook his head.
"A traiteur voodoo?" Christine suggested, holding up the victim's driver's license. "Says here that her name is Caral Jones. She was only twenty-four. Damn, it looks like she got a reverse face-lift."
"Or something worse, much worse," Val agreed. He hated to see this waste. Life was precious, both human and paranormal. This young woman had once laughed, had probably strolled along the French Quarter in the morning, sitting at a cafe with a cup of chicory coffee and a plate of warm beignets. This woman had once loved and been held tenderly by someone who cherished her. Her hopes and potential were now gone forever, all taken by an act of cruel intention and insidious hunger. To stop things like this was why he'd joined the police.
"How was this done? If this is her license… how could she age to death this quickly?"
"With a lot of help from something otherworldly," Val replied. "Something real otherworldly. Something I thought was still sleeping, which was sleeping for over six centuries."
"What are you talking about? What did this? If it was black magic, then it's stronger than any I've ever seen."
Val lowered his head as he studied the body, replying tersely, "This isn't simple black magic, Chris. This was something feeding."
His partner looked incredulous. "Feeding? What feeds on youth?"
"An incubus. A Ka incubus to be exact."
"But I…" Chris hesitated, her confusion evident. "Incubi feed on lust, I thought. And there aren't many of them left."
Glancing back at his partner, Val nodded. "You're half right. Incubi who feed on lust are called Eros incubi. They're very old, and since they can't create more of themselves, they're a dying race. Maybe there are eleven left from the Old World. Those, supposedly, in Europe."
"Then what's a Ka? I've never heard of mem."
Val sighed, adding in a grim tone, "Not many know of their existence. They feed off youth, like the Eros feed off lust. There's only supposed to be three or four Kas left, and they have been sleeping the Big Sleep. Nobody knows where. It was rumored they were around the Ural Mountains. It appears the rumors are wrong," Val finished sardonically. He glanced down at the aged remains in front of him.
"Let me do some checking, and I'll get back with you on this," he said after a moment. If what he was thinking was true, then the Big Easy was in for a world of hurt. Incubi in general felt the world was their oyster. Kas liked to eat oysters raw. They were generally very intelligent, lusty, attractive, and cruel. And hungry. They were always very, very hungry.
Christine started to argue, but Val shook his head and started toward his car. "Look, I've got some research to do, and some calls to make to the League in Europe."
"The League of Vampires?" Christine asked, surprised. Val hated to ask for help, and especially from the League. They always required a favor for anything they did. Sometimes those favors had a decidedly nasty edge.
"Chris, use your paranormal contacts to check out the supernatural community, and see if there have been any more bodies that have aged at a rapid rate. I know there are no cases like this anywhere in New Orleans or even Louisiana, or we would have been contacted. But try out the Federal website for similar crimes and see if anything else is stirring."
Christine nodded and Val left, his thoughts in turmoil. If a Ka incubus was feeding in New Orleans, what a plentiful supply of food the monster had. Partygoers of every age, size, shape, and beauty, everyone was drinking and enjoying the good life, not realizing that paradise always, always, had a dark side, a cruel, ugly side.
Val cursed. The Big Easy was appropriately named.
Chapter Nine
Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds
After a sleepless night, regrets filling her for both listening to Val and not listening to Val, Lucy had gotten out of bed on the wrong side. Nothing had gone right lately. She hadn't found DeLeon at the Overbite Bar, and Val's comments had been earth-shattering. For four years she had refused to listen to him, and now she was dying to hear his explanation. And if that didn't beat all, she didn't know what did.
Eating a late lunch in front of her television, she found a newscast that caught her attention like the snap of a line when a big old catfish took the bait. The newscaster was talking about the recent violence in New Orleans, the newest death. And Lucy was struck by the description of an old woman who had been found raped and murdered. Her name was Caral Jones. The unusual spelling had stuck out like a sore thumb.
As luck would have it, Lucy had interviewed a Caral Jones eight months ago for one of her shows. Caral had been twenty-four.
In trying to get answers from the New Orleans Paranormal Task Force, Lucy was unsuccessful. She encountered a big blue wall, as if she had run smack-dab into a Blueberry Ogre. No one was answering any questions, which only encouraged Lucy's suspicions. As her mother always said: "You can douse a skunk with perfume, but it still stinks."
Yes, the New Orleans PTF stunk to high heaven. Caral Jones's murder had been done by a preternatural creature unlike any New Orleans had ever seen or smelled before. The perp was a Ka incubus, and the powers that be were keeping mum.
Calling Caral's number, Lucy quickly learned that the girl had died last night, a victim of a foul attack. The chances of two women with the same unusual spelling of the name Caral both dying on the same night were just too much, and so, in typical fashion, Lucy came up with a plan. She had been tempted to tell Ricki, to get her help, but decided at the last moment that tracking down a Ka incubus was too dangerous to include close friends or even enemies.
Putting her plan into action, she dressed in beige khakis with a white lab coat thrown over her blue T-shirt. Her hair was in a tight bun, and she put on a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles, hoping to disguise her looks. She might not be as famous as Sandra Bullock, but she did have some following in New Orleans.
On the pocket of the lab coat she wore, Lucy pinned the name tag for a Dr. Craig. Her badge at a quick glance looked like any other badge worn by members of the New Orleans morgue staff; however, if she was unlucky and someone inspected the badge closer she would be caught for sure.
She was unlucky. Within ten minutes, Lucy had been caught by a junior G-man wannabe, the assistant to the assistant coroner. She had been thrown unceremoniously out of the morgue, and escorted outside by a security guard with a stern lecture on illegally gaining entrance.
Back at her van, Lucy eyed the hospital building, a huge Gothic-like structure built of cement, limestone, and steel. A small light above the imposing entrance revealed two thick glass doors, a yawning opening like a huge glass mouth.
Lucy stared hard at the entrance, her thoughts tumbling everywhere. At this rate, she thought derisively, she would never get close to Caral Jones. But the old woman's body in the morgue must be the same Caral Jones that Lucy had interviewed, and a person didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out that the Ka was on the attack.