Wanted: Undead or Alive

Smart And Apocalyptic

After they took Nick away, Moose and I stood on opposite sides of the dead body, staring down at the bloody mess, contemplating what it would mean to live for thousands of years and meet your end in such a sordid manner. At least, that's what I was thinking about. For all I know, Moose was wondering what would be served for dinner.

"The bones in her arms are broken," he said.

"What?"

"Look at the weird angle there." He pointed. "And there. They're broken." Squatting down, he gingerly tugged the collar of her dress down to show a clear dent in her collarbone. "There, too."

Okay. I'd been contemplating. He'd been examining the crime scene.

Trying to look like I was with him, I squatted too and nodded along. "Whoever did this beat the hell out of her."

"It's not Nick's style."

Now, that was a hard thing to comment on. Due to weird magical side effects, I'd had a brief experience of feeling Nick's emotions. I had felt the urge to do exactly this kind of violence—to chase and catch and rip apart. It had pulsed in my veins and controlled my thoughts. That said, Nick had presumably been dealing with his urges for an undetermined number of decades or possibly even centuries and, thus far, he'd managed to stay out of trouble pretty much entirely. Even with a good number of folks out to get him because of what he was, they'd failed to succeed because of how he handled himself. "Moose, has Nick ever done any kind of violence in the time you've known him?"

Moose didn't hesitate. "No. None, not even when it was called for. I mean... maybe he thumped a skip upside the head to subdue him, you know? But nothing excessive. Nothing like this."

"He's strong enough," I pointed out.

"He's strong enough not to."

"I think so, too." I glanced over at the disembodied head. It was staring at the floor, the pert little nose having prevented it from rolling all the way face-down. The reddish hair was in an elegant twist, though several locks had come loose and stuck out at strange angles.

Being sure to stay clear of the mess on the carpet, I laid on my belly and shined my phone's flashlight under the bed to make sure nothing important had rolled under there. While I was looking, I told Moose about the bump on Nick's head.

"I saw him take a hit from a piece of rebar, swung like a baseball bat. It didn't even phase him."

"So it probably wasn't a physical attack. I've seen magic rebound on him and render him virtually unconscious. Whatever this was, it's the reason he can't remember." I got back to my feet and began poking around the room, peeking in drawers and the closet. It wasn't until I reached for the fifth or sixth handle that I realized all the knobs, including the closet and bedroom doorknobs, had the same pattern of circles and lines etched on them. "Do you know what this is?"

Moose came over beside me and bent down to peer closely at the dresser pull I was pointing at. "Nah. Reminds me of runes or something, though. Send a pic to Mx. Landry." He wandered off toward the vanity and started examining the little pots and jars arranged there.

I snapped several photos and resumed my fruitless search. "Did you get anything good from the staff?"

"Not really. Shady bunch, the whole lot of them. I'd bet every one of them is hiding something."

"Like the fact that one of them murdered the siren?"

"Maybe, but I didn't hear anything that pointed to that specifically."

Deciding there was nothing else to see on the surface of things, I pulled a fingerprint kit from my pack and started dusting the room.

Moose fell in behind me, taking even more photos and lifting the prints.