“Feeling better?” Chief Constable Morgan asked.
I nodded, trying not to breathe in through my nose. Maggie laid a comforting hand on me, which was probably just a ruse so that she could continue to get a read off of me.
“Great, well then, let me fill you in on the victim.” My mutinous stomach rolled again. I so did not want to hear about the victim, especially not with her sprawled out in front of me.
“Her name is Catherine O’Connor. Age seventeen. She was a senior attending Peel Academy,” Morgan said. “From her belongings it appears she was a witch.”
He scratched his mustache. “Someone killed her out in the woods earlier this evening—near the Glen Maye entrance to the Otherworld—while she was out collecting herbs. We found her crumpled bike off to the side of the road.”
Morgan paused. “Her throat had been ripped out and her body drained of blood. She’d then been placed in a cruciform position.”
Now he looked to me—they all did.
“Um, interesting,” I said lamely.
“Sergeant Fiori, we were hoping you might tell us something that we hadn’t yet noticed.”
I swallowed. “Don’t you have someone more qualified for this?”
“Andre was called in to the crime scene around the time we found her.” My heart jumped at Andre’s name. He’d been pulled into the case as well? “He, however, could only tell us she was savagely murdered and that it could have been a vampire.”
The chief constable frowned and I stifled a smile. What a dirty little politician Andre was. This had to be the work of a vampire, but he wouldn’t even confirm that to the Politia.
“We’ve had an uneasy truce with vampires for over a century, but the truce is just that—uneasy,” the chief constable said. “We’d prefer that you, a pseudo-vampire and one of our own, work on this case with Caleb and Inspector Comfry, even if you have less knowledge on the subject than someone like Andre.”
I opened my mouth to tell them they picked the wrong girl, that there was no such thing as a pseudo-vampire, that I couldn’t help them. But instead of forming those words, my mouth formed others. “She smells like ammonia,” I said, referring to the girl in front of me. “If it was released before she was killed, then like Maggie said, she was probably terrified when she died. It probably also means her death wasn’t quick.”
I studied the victim’s neck. “I’ve never bitten anyone, so I wouldn’t know if that’s normal or not.”
“It’s not,” Maggie chimed in.
“Then whoever did this wanted to cause her pain,” I said.
My throat worked. I wanted to unsee and unlearn all that I had over the last hour. Instead, I was on the case.
Damn.
Chapter 2
I dropped my bag and slid behind my desk in my anthropology class, resting my head on my folded arms in front of me. I needed a nap like a fish needed water.
“Hey ho,” said a familiar fairy boy. “Where were you this morning? Leanne and I waited forever for your skanky ass to show.”
“Oliver,” I groaned, dragging my head up.
Oliver started at my appearance. “Whoa, what happened to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I’d already seen my bloodshot eyes and the dark circles beneath them.
He flashed me a knowing look. “Did you and Andre finally kiss and make up?”
“Is there an off button on you?” I asked. Fantasies of my bed flittered through my mind.
“Oh my God—you did, didn’t you, you hot slut!” Oliver squealed. “Give me the scoop! And don’t leave out the juicy details—you know they’re my favorite.” We were getting looks as the rest of the class filed in.
I slapped a hand over his mouth. His eyes widened.
“Just—shut up for a moment.” His eyes narrowed. If I removed my hand now without an explanation, more sass would pour out of that mouth of his than I could handle.
I lowered my voice. “A girl was murdered last night, and the Politia placed me on the investigation.”
He nodded once, and I slowly I removed my hand. He paused before asking thoughtfully, “Was that before or after you made up with Andre?”
I put my head in my hand. I could already tell today was going to be a winner.
After class got out, Oliver and I parted ways, him to grab lunch with Leanne, and me to sleep.
I wound my way through the busy corridors of Peel Castle. Hundreds of pumpkins and jack-o’-lanterns lined the walls. Between them sat enchanted caldrons, which bubbled and steamed.
Every so often I passed a set of knight’s armor. Someone had gone to the trouble of placing witch hats on top of their heads and replacing their swords with broomsticks.
All the decorations were in honor of the upcoming holiday, Samhain—more commonly known as Halloween—when the doors between worlds opened.
I exited the castle and crossed the expansive lawn.