Ким Харрисон - For a Few Demons More

Crap on toast. How in hell was I going to handle this? Every master vamp in the country, every alpha with delusions of grandeur, was going to be after me, the former to destroy the focus, the latter to possess it. Pretending to throw it off the Mackinac Bridge wasn't going to work a second time. Maybe… maybe it had been a fluke. Maybe Elaine had been a Were and she'd only told David she was human, knowing he wouldn't date a bitch.

Glenn unlocked the second drawer, and when we were arranged, he unzipped the bag. I watched David instead of Glenn. I knew the answer when his eyes closed and his hand trembled.

"Felicia," he whispered. "Felicia Borden." He reached to touch her, his trembling fingers brushing her brown hair. "I'm sorry, Felicia. I didn't know. I'm so sorry. What… what did you do to yourself?"

His voice cracked, and I darted a glance at Glenn. The FIB officer nodded. David was ready to lose it. We had better get the hard part over fast.

"Come on, David," I soothed, taking his arm and pulling him a step back. "One more."

David broke his gaze from her, and Glenn swiftly shut the drawer with the sound of scraping metal. The only one left was the woman who had been hit by a train. It probably hadn't been a suicide. Most likely she had snapped under the strain of a first transformation without pain relief or understanding, blindly fleeing in search of an answer. Or perhaps she had been lost in the glories of her newfound freedom and had misjudged her new capabilities. I almost hoped it was the latter, tragic though it would be. I didn't like the idea that she had gone insane. It would only mean that much more guilt for David.

I stood with David to the right of the last drawer. Realizing he was holding his breath, I slipped my hand into his. It was cool and dry. I think he was starting to go into shock.

Glenn opened the last drawer reluctantly, clearly not eager to show David the ruin of the woman's body.

"Oh, God," David moaned, turning away.

My eyes pricking with tears and feeling helpless, I put my arm over his shoulder and led him to the informal seating area where relatives waited for their kin to awaken. His back was hunched, and he moved without thought, grasping the back of a chair before falling into it.

He slipped out from under me, and I stood over him as he put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in to his hands. "I didn't mean it to happen," he said, his voice sounding dead. "It's not supposed to happen. It's not supposed to happen!"

Glenn had shut the last drawer and was making his way to us with an aggressive FIB swagger. "Back off," I warned him. "I see where you're going, but he didn't kill those women."

"Then why is he convincing himself he didn't?"

"David is an insurance adjustor, not a killer. You said it yourself— they were suicides."

David made a harsh sound of inner pain. Turning to him, I touched on his shoulder. "Ah, hell. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

He didn't lookup as he said flatly, "They were all alone. They had no one to help them, to tell them what to expect. That the pain would go away." His head rose, and he had tears in his eyes. "They went through that alone, and it was my fault. I could have helped them. They would have survived if I had been there."

"David…" I started, but his face abruptly lost its expression, and he rose.

"I have to go," he stammered. "I have to call Serena and Kally."

"A moment, Mr. Hue," Glenn said firmly, and I gave him a dirty look.

David's face was white, and his small but powerful build was tense. "I have to call Serena and Kally!" he exclaimed, and Iceman peeked in past the door.

My hands out in placation, I insinuated myself between Glenn and the distressed Were. "David," I soothed, gently resting my hand on his arm, "they'll be okay. It's a week before the full moon." I turned to Glenn, my voice hardening. "And I told you to back off."

His eyes narrowed at my harsh tone, but though he was the FIB's Inderland specialist, I was an Inderlander. "Back off!" I insisted, then lowered my voice lest I wake someone up. "This is my friend, and you will cut him some slack, or so help me, Glenn, I'll show you what a mean, mad witch is capable of."

Glenn clenched his jaw. I glared right back at him. I'd never pulled my magic on him before, but we had come down here to answer the question of whether the focus was turning humans into Weres, not submit to a homicide charge.

"David," I said, eyes on Glenn, "sit down. Detective Glenn has a few questions." God, I hope I have some answers .

Both men relaxed, and after Iceman let the door shut behind him, I sat as well and crossed my legs as if I were the hostess of this nice little party. David resumed his seat, but Glenn continued to stand and glower down at me. Fine. They were his wrinkles.

Then I started thinking. Crap, I wasn't smart enough to come up with a convincing lie. I'd have to tell him the truth. I hated that. Wincing, I pulled my gaze to Glenn's. "Hey… uh," I stammered. "Can you keep a secret?" I thought of the sleeping vamps, glad the drawers were soundproof. Too bad they weren't smellproof.

Glenn exhaled as if deflating, his attitude changing from that of an aggressive, stymied FIB officer to the neighborhood cop on the corner. "Since it's you, Rachel, I'll listen. For awhile."

Okay, that was fair, since I had threatened to bop him with my magic. I glanced at David, and seeing him leaving it all to me, I clasped my hands in my lap. "The reason you can't find those women in the database is because they aren't in the Inderland files."

Glenn's eyebrows rose.

"They're in the human files," I said, almost able to hear the bolts sliding—my life shifting to a new, probably shorter, path.

The fabric of Glenn's suit made a soft sound as he turned. "Human? But—"

"They came in as Weres, yes," I finished. I pulled my shoulder bag to my front to sit on my lap, but I wasn't going to tell him I had the focus. He'd probably insist on taking it, and when I refused, he'd get all testosterone-laden and then I'd get all witchy. Best to avoid it. I liked Glenn, and every time I flexed my magic, I usually lost a friend.

From beside me came David's emotionless voice. "I turned them. I didn't mean to." His head came back up. "Believe me, I didn't want this to happen. I didn't think it could happen."

"It can't," Glenn said, anger coloring his confusion. "If this is your idea of a joke—"

He didn't believe me. "Don't you think I could come up with a better story if I was jerking your chain?" I said. "I have rent to make, and I'm not going to waste my day down here in the morgue." I glanced over the sterile surrounding's. "As nice as it is down here."

The large man frowned. "Humans can't be turned into Weres. It's a fact."

"'And forty years ago humans believed it was a fact that there were no vampires or pixies. What about fairy tales?" I said. "In the old ones, a bite could make a Were. Well, they're true, and the proof is that you will find those women in the human database."

But Glenn's face said he wasn't buying it.

Head drooping, I said to the floor, "See, there's this demon-cursed statue." God, it sounds so lame . "I gave it to David to hold for me because he's a Were and Jenks said it was giving him a headache. It's bad magic, Glenn. Whoever has it has the ability to turn a human into a Were. The Weres want it, and the vamps will kill anyone to destroy it to maintain the balance of Inderland power." I brought my gaze up, and though he was listening, I could tell he wasn't ready to give up his secure belief. "I had assumed there was some sort of additional ritual needed to turn a human." Feeing guilty, I touched David's arm. "Apparently not."

"You bit them?" Glenn accused.