Ghastek opened the briefcase and extracted a stack of photographs. Déjà vu. He walked forward to give the stack to me. Derek stepped between us, wordlessly took the pictures from his hand, and delivered them to mine.
I looked at a black-and-white image of a deceased vampire. The bloodsucker lay in a crumpled heap, its wiry body pitifully broken. Thick dark blood stained its pallid hide. The vamp was coated in it, as if someone had dipped his hand into the blood and smeared it all over its taut skin the way one would rub oil over the skin of a chicken to prepare it for roasting. The bloodsucker’s bald cranium had been neatly cracked and wet emptiness glared at me where the brain had been.
The second photograph. The same vampire, this time placed on its back to better display a long gash that split its torso from the genitals to midchest. Yellowish ribs protruded from the blackness of bloody tissue. Someone had used a very sharp knife to cleave the cartilage of several ribs on the left side, separating them from the sternum, not sawing but slicing in a single motion with awful force. The vamp must have been turned on its side to allow the stringy clot of its nearly atrophied intestines to fall out. There was no fat attached to the intestines, so the killer didn’t have to bother with cutting it. Same with the bladder and colon; both organs had atrophied within weeks of undeath, so he didn’t have to deal with the mess.
The diaphragm was neatly slit, both to remove the remaining intestines and to gain access to the esophagus. He must have peeled back the diaphragm and worked his hand up the chest cavity until he could grab the esophagus and cut it. Then he simply had to pull the esophagus out through the hole, and the blood-soaked, useless lungs and bulging heart would come out with it. I’ve seen this before. That’s how you gutted a deer.
“He took the brain, the heart, the lungs, what was left of the liver and kidneys, but discarded the intestines,” Ghastek said.
I raised an eyebrow, since I didn’t see the intestines, and he murmured, “The next photograph.”
I looked and saw the ugly wet clump of innards in a puddle of blood. Unused, they had shrunk until they resembled tough twine.
“Admirable skill,” Ghastek said dryly. “The cuts were made with almost surgical precision. He has an excellent knowledge of the vampiric physiology.”
“Any chance of it being an inside job?”
Ghastek looked at me as if I had accused him of devouring small children.
“We are not stupid,” he said, meaning I’m not stupid.
“All of our people with that degree of skill are accounted for.”
“Besides this one and the shadow, how many did you lose?” I asked.
“Four.”
“Four? Four vampires?”
Ghastek shifted uncomfortably, looking as if he had tasted something slimy and sour. “We aren’t happy about the situation.”
“Where are the other photos?”
“We have none. The others were taken. We were not able to recover the bodies.”
“What do you mean, taken?”
“Something killed them instantly, severing the link between their minds and the navigators who piloted them. Then their bodies were removed before our field team was able to recover them.” He produced a piece of paper covered with neat typescript. “Here’s the list of the locations, dates, and times.”
Derek took the list from him and gave it to me. I glanced at it and put it in my pocket. Six vampires and seven shapechangers. Someone was trying to start a war between the Pack and the People and was doing a damn good job of it. Who would benefit from it?
“You’re out six vampires and you can account for only two of the bodies. Are you positive that the other four aren’t active?” The idea of four unpiloted vamps running around the city made me hurt with dread.
“They are deceased, Kate!” Nataraja snapped out of his reverie. “Why don’t you ask Curran and his pet lympago what was done to our property?”
A lympago was an inaccurate term to use for Corwin but Nate seemed so happy to have found it that I let him wallow in his own ignorance.
“I spoke to the Pack,” I said. “I’ve been able to clear Corwin to my satisfaction.”
“That’s not good enough for me,” Nataraja said.
“It’ll have to do.” All of this verbal fencing strained my patience. “His m-scan didn’t match.”
“I saw the m-scan of the crime scene,” Ghastek said, coming to life like a shark sensing blood in the water. “There was no power print except for our vampire and the diviner.”
Shit. Me and my big mouth. I should carry a banner with a big sign, “Confidential Information Given Away Free!” At least it would let people know upfront who they were dealing with.
“You must not have been looking at the right m-scan. The one I saw had a clear power record of the murderer.”
I could almost feel that formidable brain working behind Ghastek’s eyes. “Would you be willing to provide us with a copy of this other m-scan?”
“Would you be willing to tell me why the hell your shadow vampire was tailing Feldman?”
“Perhaps we merely wanted to keep an eye on the diviner,” Nataraja said.
I pretended to consider it. “No. I don’t buy it. Keeping a vamp in the field is too expensive for casual surveillance.”
“We have nothing further to discuss,” Nataraja said.
“A pleasure seeing you, too,” I said.
“Ghastek, escort the Order representative out of our territory.” Nataraja grimaced. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. I simply couldn’t bear it.”
Ghastek gave me an odd look and walked out with us, leaving Rowena and Nataraja behind.
As soon as we were out of Nate’s earshot, I stopped. “You don’t really have to escort me.”
“But I do.”
“In that case I have a question.”
Ghastek looked at me.
“If I were to taint a living animal with necromantic magic, how would I do it?”
“By taint you mean . . . ?”
There was no way out of this question without giving myself away. I was too stupid for this job.
“A sufficient amount of necromantic magic to produce a blended power print.”
“What color?”
I strained to keep from gritting my teeth. “Pale orange.”
He thought about it. “Well, the most obvious answer would be to feed an animal on necro-infused flesh. If a rat gorged itself on the flesh of a vampire, the necromantic magic would show up in its stomach contents. Some of it would make its way into the blood stream. But, since it’s obvious, it’s also wrong. I’ve scanned animals that fed on undead flesh before and the power print showed a pure necromantic arch.”
“The magic of the undead flesh overwhelmed the magic of the animal?”
Ghastek nodded. “Yes. To produce a blended power print, the influence of the necromantic magic would have to be very subtle. In theory—and this is only in theory—it would have to involve reproduction.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you ask me nicely, I might explain,” Ghastek said.
“Could you please explain this to me? It’s important and I would very much appreciate it.”
Ghastek allowed himself a smile. It touched his lips and vanished in a flicker, as if it was no more than a muscle twitch. I showed him my teeth.
“You’re much more pleasant when you talk like a human being,” Ghastek said. My smile failed to disturb him. “The bravado is amusing, but it becomes tiresome.”
I sighed. “I’m a merc. I walk like a merc, I talk like a merc, I act like a merc.”
“So you admit to being a walking stereotype?”
“It’s safer that way,” I said honestly.
For a moment I thought that he somehow understood the deeper meaning of my words. Then he said, “We were talking rats?”
“Yes. And I did ask nicely.”
“In theory, if I take a female rat and feed it undead flesh, while allowing her to mate and carry offspring to term, then repeat the process with the offspring, somewhere down the line the descendants of the original rat may display permanent influence of necromantic magic, which will produce a blended power print. Something along light orange on the m-scan.”