At least Aryal had texted Rune to let him know that she was with Niniane, and that Niniane was okay. But Aryal was known for not being girl-savvy. What did okay mean to the harpy—not coughing up arterial blood? Hell, by that standard, Tiago had left her okay. He had known she would be physically safe under Carling’s protection. Mentally and emotionally were two different matters.
The need to get back to Niniane gnawed at him. Every minute he spent away was agony. He kept having something like a PTS-fucking-D reaction every time he saw in his mind’s eye how she had flinched from him and turned lifeless as a little doll, and that had happened goddamn hours ago.
It helped to have an agenda. He had stuff he had wanted to accomplish. He had corralled Cameron Rogers and they had gone to the nearest police station to look at the reports that had been filed on the two attacks. He hadn’t gleaned much more than he already knew, but it always paid to be thorough. He had taken a gander at Clarence/JoBe’s rap sheet, which was mostly full of petty shit involving break-ins and robberies. Tiago had memorized his address. After he had parted ways with Rogers, he had gone to check out Clarence’s crib and then gone to find Clarence himself.
Checking out the morgue was the last thing on his list. He wanted to see the bodies for himself and get what information he could from them. Then Tiago was going to head back to the hotel, and nothing, not the freak-show Vampyres, not the snippy-ass Dark Fae delegation, not even Niniane herself, was going to keep him from having a word with her, or maybe even three or four.
The room they had stepped into was utilitarian, full of steel and industrial-painted concrete, with tall cabinets in one corner that had to contain magical tools, for the cabinets gleamed with Power. There were no windows, of course. Tiago had been in many a morgue before—he had even been in the original Cook County morgue once—and he automatically loathed the place. The autopsies on the bodies of the three Dark Fae males had been completed. They were stored in drawers awaiting release for cremation or burial. The three Wyr were still being processed. Their bodies were laid out on tables and half covered in sheets.
Tiago prowled around the tables, looking at the males, his lip curled. That one—yeah, he remembered that one. The Wyr had died of blunt-force trauma to the head. The trauma had been Tiago’s boot heel coming down on him. One side of the Wyr’s face was now concave, but there was enough left of the other side to get an idea of what he had looked like.
Rune was still ostensibly chatting up Dr. Medusa What’s-hername, but he said telepathically to Tiago, You recognize any of these gentlemen, T-bird?
Just from the attack, Tiago said. You?
Nope. They’re all new to me.
One advantage to conducting an autopsy by magical means was that the examiner could use disinfecting spells instead of chemicals. The decision was a tricky one for the examiner to make, as it depended on the forces involved in a death, since spells could disrupt any lingering Power that might provide vital clues, or they could even have a toxic effect when certain kinds of differing Powers combined.
These jokers were not that complicated. Death-by-stupidity was the cause as far as Tiago was concerned. Who the fuck didn’t know by now that Niniane had been sheltered and was supported by the Lord of the Wyr?
The most important thing about these autopsies was how any information might aid in the investigation of the attacks. Dr. Medusa What’s-her-name had foresight. She knew the Wyr would have a keen interest in the proceedings and had kept the autopsy procedure clean of any scent contaminants. Tiago found a box of gloves on a corner cabinet and snapped on a pair. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye as the medusa took a sudden step forward. Even her head snakes looked alarmed. Rune put a restraining hand on the medical examiner’s arm, smiling down into her anxious face.
“It’s okay,” Rune told her. “Tiago knows what he’s doing. He won’t mess with your results.”
She nodded although she looked uncertain. They both fell silent and watched as Tiago examined the bodies. The visual inspection didn’t tell him anything he did not already know. Inspecting them by scent was more complicated, as the bodies had accumulated layers of different scents. No matter how tightly a crime scene might be processed, a certain amount of scent contamination occurred. Aside from their individual scents, these bodies carried scents from the last places they had been, including the scene where they had died, along with residue from the plastics and rubber gloves that had been used in transporting, storing and examining them.
He could detect the faintest hint of cigarette smoke on all three. He checked the teeth and gums of each dead guy. None of them had smoked, which didn’t surprise him. Wyr, with their greater sense of smell, tended not to. Did that offer a clue to where they might have been, or had some police officer fucked up and taken a smoke break at the scene of the attack? Frowning, Tiago moved from the Wyr themselves to their clothing and possessions, which were sitting bagged and tagged on a nearby table.
None of the guys had carried an ID. All they had carried were weapons and cash, and one of them had a half-empty packet of Chiclets. Still, their possessions helped to solidify scent impressions much better. Confident now, Tiago said, “They met at a bar. Someplace that serves draft beer, greasy food, and allows smoking, because none of these guys smoked.”
“That’s certainly consistent with the contents of their stomachs,” said the medusa. She gave Tiago a look of surprised approval. “Two of them ate a meal of fish and chips, and the other one had a large cheeseburger with jalapenos. All three had consumed a certain amount of alcohol, maybe some form of Dutch courage as they were gearing themselves up to fight. I don’t have a tox report back yet, but at a guess I don’t think they would have imbibed enough to impair driving or motor skills. That takes some heavy drinking for Wyr, and there’s no other evidence to support it.”
Tiago looked at Rune. “There are other scents of Elder Races on their things, but no one scent stands out. I just keep getting hints. We need to have someone canvass the bars in the area that are frequented by the Elder Races.”
Rune nodded. “Somebody served dinner and drinks to these fuckers. We might get lucky and get a positive ID on one or all of them, which would mean we could look for where they lived and check to see if any of them received any large amounts of money recently. They had some motive for the attack. Maybe they got paid to do it.”
“We might also get a description of somebody they met,” Tiago said.
The two sentinels exchanged hard-edged predatory smiles. They didn’t have to ask what the other one was thinking. In that moment both Wyr were of one accord. It felt good to go on the hunt and not stay stuck in a position where they were forced to react to a situation beyond their control.
“Skeert of the both of you,” muttered Dr. Telemar.
A cold voice spoke from the doorway. “Or maybe you’re hoping to plant evidence that leads other investigators away from the Wyr,” said Dark Fae Commander Arethusa. The tall female stepped into the room. “I should not be surprised to see you here contaminating the autopsy results on the three bodies.”
The beast in Tiago lunged to the end of its chain and clawed at the air. Everything dropped away except the sight of the Commander’s anger-filled face. Growling, Tiago started forward. Arethusa drew the two short swords she had strapped to her back.