Chapter Twenty-Two

‘As I'm certain Lord Horvath is already aware,' Robert intoned, ‘all werewolves, regardless of their clan and whether they are dead or alive, are cared for within these walls.'

I gazed round the stark clinical décor of the building he'd led us into. It contrasted strongly to the other places in Lisson Grove that I'd visited so far. It had obviously been purpose built and was far more utilitarian than the grand buildings with their elegant stone facades and high-ceilinged interiors. I preferred it; somehow it seemed more honest. ‘So this is a hospital for wolves, then?'

‘Essentially,' he sniffed.

He could have said that at the beginning. ‘Why don't you have your own separate clan facilities?'

‘Whether there are ongoing clan animosities or not, at the end of the day we are all werewolves. Pooling medical resources makes fiscal sense. Besides, we all bleed the same and, deep down, we want the best for all of our species.' He allowed a flash of humour to light his pale eyes. ‘We are not animals.'

‘One for all and all for one,' I said drily.

Lukas flicked me a sideways look. ‘Indeed, D'Artagnan. Although I should point out that vampires are not usually welcome within this facility.'

Robert tossed his head. ‘Vampires are not werewolves.'

‘And vice-versa,' he returned.

Okaaay. ‘Well,' I said aloud, ‘now we've cleared up that biological confusion, where is Becca?'

The wolf's expression shuttered. ‘This way,' he muttered.

We followed him along the striplight-illuminated corridor and down a set of stairs. I was starting to realise that all morgues, regardless of who they were designed for, were located in basements. I supposed the dead didn't need a view and weren't claustrophobic, but it seemed a shame, especially given my recent experiences. I liked to imagine that any lingering souls would enjoy a few beams of sunlight through open windows before they finally faded away. I knew that I would.

The morgue staff had clearly been alerted to our visit: three white-coated figures were waiting for us by the entrance. My eyes automatically went to their arms, noting the yellow tags that indicated their zeta profile, although their bowed heads in front of Robert had already indicated their subservient status. The lupine hierarchy was embedded everywhere.

The werewolf on the left stepped forward. She was an older woman with the same russet-coloured hair as whoever had left the single strand Laura had found on Tony's body. ‘Good afternoon, sir,' she said to Robert. Then she inclined her head respectfully to Lukas. ‘Lord Horvath.'

He nodded. She glanced at me, but apparently my human status didn't deserve a formal greeting.

I smiled brilliantly. ‘Hello!'

She didn't smile back. ‘If you'd like to follow me.'

Lukas nudged me. ‘Don't take it personally.'

I was less bothered than he thought. I was the newbie here, and I'd done little to earn any respect beyond managing to avoid bowing to Lady Sullivan. Even if other people were aware of my rising-from-the dead experience, it was more likely to send them running away screaming rather than wanting to be my buddy.

A werewolf, a vampire and a zombie all strolled into a morgue… It had the beginnings of a fine joke. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure there would be much of a punchline.

Becca's body was laid out waiting for us. I was glad to see that she was in human form. I wasn't sure what happened to werewolves when they died; if they reverted to animal form, I'd have had considerable difficulty examining Becca. In fact, I didn't know squat about the physiology of werewolves.

I squared my shoulders and looked her over with a detached eye; at least this was easier than confronting Tony's corpse.

Becca's skin already possessed the pallor of the dead. ‘How long has she been dead for?' I asked, gazing at the network of scars – both old and new – on her body.

The white-coated werewolf pursed her lips. ‘Forty hours, give or take.'

I nodded, peering at the deep slashes on her wrists. ‘And the murder weapon?'

‘She committed suicide,' Robert answered instantly.

I waved my hand. ‘Whatever. Where is the knife that was used to cut her wrists?'

There was a pause. I glanced up briefly and saw Robert indicating agreement to the morgue technician. She turned, opened a drawer and held up a sealed transparent bag. ‘Here.'

The knife was surprisingly slender. I stared at it for a moment, trying to work out if it was the same one that had killed me. There was no way to be sure without testing it. ‘It needs to be checked,' I said. ‘We need to know whether there are traces of anyone else's blood on it besides Becca's.'

Robert's eyes narrowed. ‘Why would someone else's blood be on it? Even if Becca's death is related to DC Brown's, you said that he hanged himself.'

I raised my head and regarded him coolly. ‘I'm not required to explain every detail to you. However, it's important to leave no stone unturned. There is no excuse for shoddy detective work.'

‘Are you implying that we are shoddy?'

‘No.' My voice was flat. ‘I'm saying that I want to make sure nothing is missed.'

He looked away and sighed. ‘Very well.'

The technician handed the bag to Lukas. He broke the seal and began to draw out the blade.

‘What are you doing?' I objected. ‘You'll contaminate it! We have to send it to a lab!'

‘D'Artagnan,' he said softly, ‘I can find the answer to your question far quicker than any laboratory.' He raised the knife to his mouth and his tongue flicked against it. I watched him in horror.

‘Well?' Robert demanded.

Lukas returned the knife to the bag and looked at me, apology in his black-eyed gaze. ‘There is only one blood type on this blade, and it belongs to a werewolf.'

Fine. I turned away. It had been a long shot anyway.

I returned my focus to Becca. Crouching by her head, I brushed away the hair from her neck and gazed at her skin. I squinted and peered closer. Damn it: I couldn't see any evidence of any miniscule pinpricks that would tally with the one on Tony's body. I checked her other side. Nothing.

‘If you tell me what you're looking for then I can help you,' the technician said irritably. ‘I might be a werewolf, but I'm as good at my job as any human.'

I straightened up. ‘Tony – Detective Constable Brown – had a tiny mark here.' I indicated the spot on my own neck. ‘The pathologist who conducted his post-mortem believes he was injected with something prior to his death which might have incapacitated him.'

‘I've found nothing of that sort here.'

I stood my ground. ‘It was a very small mark. Have you tested her blood?'

The technician regarded me implacably. ‘She slit her own wrists. There's nothing to test for.'

I waited. Robert sighed. ‘Do the tests,' he said. ‘We would hate for the Metropolitan Police to think that we weren't investigating the untimely demise of our own kind thoroughly enough.'

I knew that he was humouring me, but it didn't matter. As long as I got the results that I wanted, I'd put up with all manner of bullshit.

‘Why does she have all these scars?' I asked. ‘Is this normal for werewolves of her age?'

He shrugged. ‘Perfectly normal. You'd be hard pressed to find many wolves who don't possess battle scars.'

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Battle scars?'

‘From the full-moon challenges,' he explained. ‘If a lower-ranking wolf is smart, they choose someone they know they can beat.' He grimaced slightly. ‘Not every wolf is smart.'

The technician took pity on my ignorance. ‘The day after the full moon is our busiest time.'

I blinked. ‘With bodies? You mean you fight each other to the death for the chance to move up a rank?' Lady Sullivan hadn't mentioned that unsavoury titbit.

‘I meant it's the hospital's busiest time.' She sniffed. ‘Not the morgue's.'

‘Accidental deaths do occur,' Robert explained. ‘But not that frequently.'

I thought about what Tony had told me about the werewolves' reduced lifespan and wondered if that were actually true.

‘I've yet to meet a human who understands our rituals.' The technician looked at me pointedly. ‘Or who doesn't judge us by them.'

‘Is that in much the same way that you've been judging me?' I asked.

She stiffened.

Robert cleared his throat. ‘Shall we leave the morgue so they can conduct the tests you've requested and move on to her flat?'

I glanced at Becca's lifeless body. Finding a tiny pinprick amongst her many scars would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

‘That sounds good to me,' Lukas agreed. ‘D'Artagnan?'

Despite my reluctance to leave off examining Becca's corpse, I nodded. ‘Very well.'

***

Anna and Becca had shared a ground-floor flat. It was a few streets away from where I'd first seen Becca running and covered in blood. I paused outside the front door, trying to picture Gregory strolling past and Becca barrelling out in her underwear to confront him about her sister's disappearance. It seemed vaguely plausible.

‘Did you speak to the neighbours after Gregory and Becca's fight?' Lukas asked Robert, taking the words right out of my mouth.

‘We're not completely incompetent.' The werewolf gave him a sidelong look. ‘Apologies, Lord Horvath – I didn't mean to sound so defensive. But it is hard to have our methods questioned in this manner. I'm unused to such interference.'

‘We're not here to challenge you,' Lukas replied quietly. ‘That's not what this is about. But I'd feel the same in your position. No apology is necessary.'

Robert licked his lips. ‘May I ask why you have involved yourself? You haven't mentioned any evidence of vampire collusion, either in DC Brown's death or in these outlandish suspicions about Becca and her sister.'

Lukas didn't look at me. ‘Let's call it professional curiosity, combined with a desire to continue to keep Supernatural Squad at bay.'

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, yeah.

I walked past them into the flat. I could take it from here.

Light filtered in through the large Georgian windows. Noting the indentation in a cushion on a chair nearby, I sat down in the same spot and gazed outside. I had a clear view of the whole street. If Becca had been here when Gregory walked past, no wonder she'd noticed him.

I stood up and looked around. There were a few glossy magazines on the streak-free, glass-topped table, together with a worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula. I smirked. Perhaps it was required reading for supes.

I picked it up, noting the small bookmark about halfway through. It was the stub of an entry ticket. I peered at it: it was for Crystal, the club where Gregory said he'd chatted up Anna. Hmm. I put the book down again.

In the narrow galley kitchen, I opened cupboards and peered inside at the neat stacks of plates and cups and cutlery. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary.

I frowned as Lukas appeared, his frame filling the doorway. ‘Find anything useful?'

‘Not yet,' I muttered.

He watched me for a moment as I continued searching. ‘You're annoyed,' he said finally. ‘Is it because of what I said to Robert? I haven't hidden my motives from you, D'Artagnan – I do want to keep Supe Squad from becoming too intrusive. Wrapping up this investigation quickly is the best way to do that. And, of course, I remain curious about you and your … abilities.'

‘Well,' I said, flipping open the bin lid and rifling gingerly through the contents, ‘if you get any answers about that, be sure to let me know.'

I picked up a cellophane wrapper with a familiar sticker on it. That sandwich shop did good business. I dropped it back into the bin and turned to the fridge. Its metallic surface was covered with photos held in place by magnets and I gently pulled off one of two smiling young women beaming out at the camera. Anna and Becca. I stared at it for a moment. Not only did they look alike, they had the same shining optimism in their expressions. I sighed and returned the photo to its place.

‘Perhaps,' Lukas said, ‘it's time to consider that the deaths are unrelated. It does appear that Becca committed suicide.'

‘Mmm.' I moved towards him and gave him a pointed look to get the hell out of my way. ‘Excuse me.'

He stepped back. I walked out of the kitchen and headed for the bathroom. It hadn't been cleaned. I gazed at the rim of blood round the bathtub and the splatters on the floor and swallowed. I wondered whether the blood traces bothered Lukas.

‘What about Anna?' I asked. ‘Where has she vanished to?'

‘I don't know.' Lukas's expression remained calm. ‘Robert is a professional and he knows what he's doing. Wherever Anna is, he and his team will find her sooner or later.'

It was the ‘later' part which worried me.

‘Emma.' His voice was low, and his eyes were warm with sympathy. ‘I know you want to think that everything is connected, and that the attacks on you and Brown are related to what happened here. But there's no evidence to suggest a connection. Just because the deaths occurred within a similar time frame doesn't mean they're linked.'

‘You don't think they are, do you?'

‘There's no proof.' He reached out for me then seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand. ‘You're too close to this investigation. And it's been a traumatic time for you.'

I didn't raise my voice. ‘Don't patronise me, Lukas.'

‘That was not my intention.'

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I was in desperate need of a shower and good scrub. ‘I'm going back to Supe Squad,' I said. ‘Then I'll think about where to go next and what to do.'

‘I'm still on your side. I still want to help.'

‘I know,' I said quietly. I managed a small smile. ‘I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon.'

And then I walked out to have a quick word with Robert before leaving Lisson Grove.