Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 1)

Mac grinned. “Of course. Eve is the best.”

I looked at the woman, who had sleek red hair and blue glasses.

Her green eyes were unfocused, but she was breathing normally.

“Tell me where the guy with the neck tattoo is located,” I said. “He came in two nights ago with a bashed head.”

She blinked, her face twisting in a grimace. Awareness flashed in her eyes, briefly, then anger and resistance. She could obviously feel the potion and fought it, but finally, her face crumpled in defeat. She turned and pointed to one of the little doors. “He’s number thirteen.”

“Lucky number thirteen,” Mac said.

“Is he missing any organs?” I asked.

Her jaw clenched as she fought the potion that forced her to speak.

“Any missing organs?” I demanded.

“He’s missing his—” Her eyelids fluttered, and she sagged, her eyes closing in exhaustion. I caught her, stopping her from slamming her head into the desk.

“That’s all we’ll get out of her,” Mac said.

Gently, I laid her on the ground and strode to number thirteen. It was at waist level, and I reached for the handle.

It wasn’t locked, and the door opened silently. I pulled the tray out, and the black bag containing the body was stark against the steel table.

I swallowed hard and looked up at Mac. “I don’t suppose you have a fondness for dead bodies and want to do this bit?”

“What, look inside his chest?”

“No. Just open it and check who he is.”

“Oh, well, in that case…no.” She stepped back for good measure.

“Damn.” I unzipped it, praying that there was only one guy with a neck tattoo and bashed-in head in the morgue.

It was my guy, at least according to the tattoo. I thought the head injury looked familiar, but they probably all looked similar when they were this gruesome. “It’s him. Maybe we can check the records.”

I unzipped the bag further, remembering that they often tied the identification to the toe. As expected, I found the little tag along with his official number and no name. I removed it and carried it over to the computer terminal.

Mac left her spot along the wall and joined me. “You know the password?”

“Nope.” And the damned computer just sat silently, staring at me. Smug and locked. It took about two minutes to realize I had no chance of getting into the bloody thing. And there was no paperwork sitting out on the desk or other work surfaces.

Dread unfurled in my chest, and I looked at Mac. “None of Eve’s potions figure out a computer password, will they?”

She grimaced and shook her head. “You’re going to have to do it, aren’t you?”

I nodded, my stomach pitching. “I don’t even know what most of the organs look like.”

Mac groaned. “Let’s make it quick.”

I nodded, turning back to the body. “This is the worst.”

“Worse than going to prison?”

“Not worse than that.” I moved on autopilot, my mind screaming in horror as I stared at the sewn-up Y-shaped incision on the man’s chest.

Nope. There was no time to freak out, and even less time to wimp out.