Abigail Bradford lay cold and dead under the harsh overhead light. Her skin was a stomach-turning gray now that all the blood had been drained from her body. Her shoulder-length blond hair was slightly fanned out beneath her head. She almost looked like she was sleeping. The analysts had not made a single cut on her body. There was no need. The source of her demise was rather obvious: more than half of her throat was missing.

Unfortunately, the throat wasn’t neatly cut up. A chunk of flesh had been torn out using sharp fangs, leaving behind ragged bits of skin and muscle. Could a human have done this? No. Impossible. I doubted a normal human had the strength, and the damage left by the teeth was all wrong.

Could a vampire? Possibly, but a vampire would have spit out the chunk of flesh and no one had yet to mention finding it.

Could a lycan? Definitely.

Archie took out a small penknife and pulled open the wound slightly. My stomach lurched and I fought the urge to step backward. I had spent ample time around dead bodies and caused the deaths of others. I had been surrounded by men mangled by the viciousness of war, but this felt like desecrating the remains, even though pursuing a murderer.

“If you’ll look closer, you can see where one of the lower canines of her attacker scored one of the vertebrae of the spinal cord,” Archie explained. “All wrong for human canines. Definitely animal of some sort.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Mira growled, pacing away from the body. She ran one hand through her hair, but I couldn’t tell if she was shaken or just irritated. “Why can’t you just say she was attacked by an animal?”

“Other than the fact that the apartment was completely undisturbed?” he demanded incredulously, shoving the penknife into an interior pocket of his blazer.

“Leave that to the cops. Your job is to give a cause of death. You have it. Her throat was ripped out by a very large dog,” Mira countered. She walked back over to the table, her heels angrily clicking on the pale yellow linoleum.

“What about the bruises?” Archie snapped.

“What bruises?” I asked.

The coroner pointed out a pair of small, circular bruises under her collarbone near her shoulders.

“Could be anything,” Mira shrugged.

“Look at her back,” Archie directed.

Frowning, I grabbed Abigail’s right shoulder and pushed her up so that she was balanced on her side. A chill swept through me as I realized the flesh of the dead body felt sickeningly similar to Mira’s when I had touched her wrist earlier in the evening.

With considerable effort, I turned my head to look at the corpse’s back. Near the shoulders were a set of four circular bruises marring her white skin like fingerprints. Someone had held her still, or held her down.

“Can you date the bruises?” I demanded, carefully laying the body back down.

“I’d say same night as her death,” Archie replied.

“Backdate the bruises in your report by a couple of days,” Mira said with a slight shake of her head. “It will look like she had a fight with her boyfriend.”

“Mira….” He sighed.

“We can do this,” Mira said, her voice firm and strong. She was back to exuding her usual confidence, taking control of the situation. “Backdate the bruises. Put down she was killed by a large dog. It’ll be another five weeks before the blood test comes back and the report is ready, right?”

“Yes.”

“I doubt anything will show up, but if it does, fudge the report. I don’t want anything showing up in her blood but a couple shots of tequila at most.”

“What about the police? They won’t believe—”

“I’ll take care of the police. We’ve got to give the press and this girl’s parents something nice and neat to cling to before this mess gets any nastier.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now get out of here,” she commanded. Her tone hardened to the same consistency as granite and the room grew colder, as if the air conditioner had been kicked into high.

“But—”

“Get out,” she bit out through clenched teeth, her hands gripping the edge of the table. I stood still, the palm of my right hand itching slightly from the overwhelming desire to grab one of my knives. “Go take the elevator up to your office. Check your e-mail. Talk to the guard for five minutes and then leave. We’ll be gone before you reach your car.”

Wisely, Archie just nodded and slipped around the table. His sharp, clipped footsteps echoed through the silent room as he beat a hasty retreat. Mira waited until the double doors were once again closed before she released her hold on the table and walked around to stand where the coroner had been moments before.

Leaning close to what remained of Abigail’s neck, she took a deep breath through her nose. I could only guess she was checking to see if she could pick up the same scent she got a hint of at the apartment. The vampire suddenly lurched away, taking a few stumbling steps deeper into the room, hunched over and gagging. I froze. I had never seen a vampire gag on anything, especially the scent of a decaying body. I honestly didn’t think anything bothered them. Mira finally dropped to her knees, with one hand pressed to the cool floor while the other was pressed to her chest. A fresh round of dry heaves wracked her thin frame, keeping her partially doubled over.

“Mira?”

“I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and rough. She held up one hand, warding me off. After another minute, her whole body stilled, her eyes closed in a look of peace. Whatever it was, it had finally passed.

“How’s your sense of smell?” she asked, slowly pushing off the floor. I was surprised that she didn’t use her power like usual to lift herself to her feet, but the nightwalker had been acting strangely since I first saw her at the hotel. Why should this be any different?

“Human,” I replied. I had the same sense of smell as a normal human being. Being part bori enhanced only a few aspects of my life.

“Figures,” she grumbled, walking back over to the corpse.

“What happened?”

“I’ve never smelled anything like that before,” she said. Her upper lip curled in disgust. She was now keeping a bit of a distance from the body, as if trying to keep from getting another whiff of whatever she had smelled. “It’s worse than rotting meat left in the noonday sun. It’s more than just the smell of death. And it’s not coming from her. It’s whatever attacked her.”

“The same as what you smelled in the apartment?”

“Maybe…” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing on the girl’s throat. “It was just so faint…I don’t know.”

“Does that rule out vampires then?”

A frown tugged at Mira’s full lips and creased her brow. For a second, she looked very sad and weighed down by her thoughts. “Unfortunately, no.” The two lonely words were a faint whisper as they tripped from her lips to me. I think she had come here confident that she would find her answers, but ended up with only more questions.

“We have to go,” I reminded her.

“Just a minute,” she said, picking up Abigail’s left arm. She turned it, looking at the inside of the bend in her arm. Mira then reached across the body and picked up the right arm, inspecting the interior of the arm. “Look,” she said, running her thumb across a pair of faint white scars. Vampire bites.

“I thought you preferred the neck,” I said.

“Her owner would have. It’s the first place we look to see if the human has been tagged,” Mira said, putting the arm down and turning her attention back to the side of the girl’s neck that was untouched. “Someone not her owner must have taken a nibble. Look. Here’s another set.”

I walked around the table so that I could see the girl’s neck more clearly. There was another set of bite marks on her neck. These looked like they were a week or two old at most, compared to the set on her arm. “So she was bitten on the arm weeks or even a month ago, and her owner bit her a week or so ago. Two vampires fighting over the same piece of flesh. One decides to kill her so the other can’t have her?”