Mark of the Demon (Kara Gillian 1)

Chapter 8

Breaking into the morgue was painfully easy. The coroner’s office suffered from a lack of funding more than any other agency, mostly due to the fact that people didn’t like to think about death and thus didn’t want to fund it any more than absolutely necessary.

“I’ve done my share of crazy things in my day, kiddo,” Aunt Tessa remarked dryly as she watched me work the lock, “but I don’t believe I’ve ever broken into a morgue in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, this would normally be far too tame for you,” I replied as I slipped the edge of my folding knife into the doorjamb, noting with wry amusement that the jamb was already scored a dozen times over, probably from people who worked for the coroner’s office. The door clicked open and I stepped inside, wrinkling my nose at the ever-present odors—the combination of cleaner and decomposition and bleach, each struggling to overpower the others.

I quickly flicked on my key-chain LED flashlight, then stepped inside and pulled Aunt Tessa in, closing the door behind her.

“Needs incense,” I heard her mutter from behind me.

I swung the tiny flashlight in an arc, blue light reflecting eerily off the metal table and stained walls. “Let’s just hope no one gets brought in while we’re doing our little bit of breaking and entering.”

The cooler was locked, but I knew that the key was oh-so-cleverly hidden in a drawer right next to it. A wave of cold dead air rolled out as I swung the door open, and once again I pulled my aunt inside, this time propping the door slightly ajar with an office chair. I panned my flashlight around the cooler, relieved to find that there was only one stretcher with a body bag atop it. I checked the tag on the outside of the bag to be sure. Yep, this was my victim, Mark Janson.

The bag was secured with a plastic zip tie, which I sliced through with my knife. I quickly tugged on latex gloves, then unzipped the bag, exhaling as the sight of the young man struck an emotional chord once again. Then I grimaced. The arcane smudges had faded drastically, as I’d feared.

“There’s not much left of them, Aunt Tessa. Can you see anything?”

Tessa leaned over the bag, slowly scanning the body, nose wrinkling at the faint odor of sweat and blood and death. “I see what you’re talking about.” She frowned. “Turn your flashlight off, please.”

I switched the flashlight off, suppressing a shudder at the near-absolute blackness inside the cooler, broken only by the faint illumination sneaking past the propped-open door. But I could see why my aunt wanted less light. The smudges were far more visible to othersight in the dark.

“There’s not much to see,” Tessa said, “but it’s definitely a male who left these.”

“The profiles that were done all indicated a white male in his thirties—”

“Lives alone, parents divorced, yeah yeah yeah,” my aunt cut in with a laugh. “Isn’t it funny how every profile is darn near the same?”

“No shit! But I was going to add that I also got the impression of a male.”

“Hmm … But that doesn’t mean he’s the killer.”

“Sure, but that’s some pretty damning evidence.” I shrugged. “I mean, if any of this were admissible in court.”

Tessa made a low noise in her throat. “They.”

It took a second for my aunt’s comment to register. “Wait, there’s more than one?”

“Yep. At least, there are two different sources on this body.” She sighed. “But I can’t really tell anything about the second one. Can’t even tell gender or species.”

“Species?” I said, startled. The dark shape of my aunt’s head turned toward me.

“Yes, dearie. Not necessarily human.”

I groaned. “Aw, crap. So this guy could be teaming up with a demon?”

“You weren’t listening,” she chided. “I said I couldn’t tell. It could still be a human, it could be a demon. It could be a squid person from Mars.”

I snorted softly and smiled. “Of course, Auntie Dearest.”

“Oh, please,” she groaned. “Enough of that. Now gimme some light, Darling Niece.”

I flicked the flashlight on again, only to have Tessa pluck it from my fingers and shine it directly on the symbol on the man’s lower abdomen. She stared at it, mumbling softly under her breath, then finally sighed and shook her head. “I can’t figure that thing out at all.” She handed the light back to me. “We’ll have to ask one of the demonic ilk for advice on that one. I wish we knew how you muffed up the Rysehl summoning.”

My jaw tightened. “I didn’t muff it up.”

She winced. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant. But something went wrong, and I’d be a lot happier if I knew what it was.” She smiled and patted my cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll figure it out.”