Tainted Blood: A Generation V Novel (12 page)

It was clear that she’d felt insulted, and I hurried to smooth it over. “I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t know what you were looking at,” I said, even though I suppose I had been, a bit. “I guess I was just confused about why so many wounds.”

“Seventeen,” she said, her voice sounding slightly less
frosty as she apparently accepted the apology. “All in the chest. Even disregarding the head trauma, he would’ve been long dead halfway through.”

“This is sounding a bit personal,” I noted. “Was the examiner able to find anything new about the attacker?”

There was the rustling of papers. “Ah—well, from the angle of the wounds, the attacker was probably straddling the body when the stabbing began, so no ideas about the height. She was able to determine that the weapon was steel, straight edged and ground along both sides, and eight inches long.”

I rubbed my face. “So, probably the missing kitchen knife?”

“It does sound a bit like my best vegetable chopping knife,” she conceded. She might’ve said vegetables, but given what I’d observed of Dan’s dietary requirements, I was betting that her chopping knife was used on a lot of meat as well. I shuddered a little. I’d made the mistake only once of talking to Dan while he was cooking—and there had been no disguising the organ meat he used.

Catherine Celik’s calm and precise voice, clearly honed from years of being a funeral director, cut into my thoughts. “Mr. Scott, will you have any further need of the body? The Kivela family would like to know if they can schedule the funeral.”

I hesitated, then asked, “When will the funeral be held?”

“Not for at least two days, possibly more. I know they’ll need to schedule a long wake to accommodate the out-of-town
metsän kunigas
who need to travel.”

“Okay, tell them they can schedule it. But, please, Ms. Celik, could you put off doing anything to the body for as long as possible? Just in case I need something else from it.” I was fumbling in the dark here, and I wished heartily that someone was with me who could help out. Unwillingly, my thoughts turned to Matt McMahon, former cop, private eye, and the man who had been my surrogate uncle
and the last remaining link to my foster parents until a month ago when he’d received a very sudden initiation into the world that most humans lived their entire lives blissfully unaware of. We hadn’t spoken since, and I pushed the thought of him away.

“Of course, sir. I will inform the family that the body will not be ready until the day of the funeral, and that we will instead set up a closed and empty casket for use during the wake.”

“That might not make them too happy,” I observed, imagining Gil Kivela’s reaction, “but I appreciate it, Ms. Celik.”

“It is a pleasure to assist the Scotts in this delicate matter, sir,” she said smoothly, and we exchanged good-byes.

The second call was a bit stranger. It was from the witch’s assistant, explaining that Rosamund was on vacation and out of the country. Apparently Rosamund had designated a substitute for any calls from the Scott family, but at that point in the conversation the assistant started sounding weaselly.

“Rosamund said to pass you along to Esmé Adams, who lives in Vermont, but . . . well, I heard that you were investigating this yourself. . . .”

The subtextual hinting was pretty heavy. “Yes . . . ?” I prompted cautiously.

“Well, I have another number. . . . Valentine Sassoon lives in-state, and . . .” If the witch on the phone had been in front of me, I would’ve had to suppress the urge to strangle her during all of these charged pauses. “He’s really interested in meeting you,” the assistant finally concluded.

Given the way that my morning with Lilah had started, I really didn’t want to deal with any more undercurrents in conversations, but I sighed and gave in, saying, “Why don’t you give me both numbers, then?”

The assistant was almost overcome with her eagerness
to read Valentine Sassoon’s number out to me, but then she started verbally backtracking, apparently finally realizing that she hadn’t exactly been subtle. I agreed three times not to mention the private recommendation to Rosamund, assuming I ever met her, and finally got off the phone.

I pondered the situation for a moment, then called Suze. I gave her an edited version of my conversation with Lilah—I wasn’t sure exactly how much of the inner workings of the Neighbors’ problems she would be okay with me telling Suze (and, by extension, telling the kitsune in general), so I kept that part as bare bones as possible, saying only that the Ad-hene weren’t exactly equipped to carry knives right now, and mostly focusing on filling her in on what the ghouls’ autopsy had shown and my sudden surfeit of witch phone numbers.

“Call the one the assistant recommended,” she said immediately.

“Why, do you know him?” I asked.

“Never even heard of him, but I’m curious. Usually assistants who change a boss’s recommendation have a good reason.”

“Fine, I’ll call.”

“Come pick me up,” she insisted. “I’m missing all the fun.”

“And whose fault is that?” I asked. She made a very rude noise and hung up, which I took as an acknowledgment of my point.

I turned the Fiesta on and headed over to Suze’s, dialing as I went. Fortunately Rhode Island didn’t require hands-free sets yet, and since I was over the magical age of eighteen, the state assumed that I could multitask maturely. I slowed down anyway. There might not be laws against it, but the police took fairly dim views toward people driving while talking on their phones, and they had been known to hand out speeding tickets to people
going thirty in a twenty-five miles per hour zone just to make their feelings about phone use known.

Another assistant answered the call, and I was immediately assured that
Dr.
Sassoon had left clear instructions, and that I was to come over at any time I wanted. I pulled a pen out of the glove compartment and, probably pushing multitasking just a bit too far, held the phone with my shoulder while I wrote the address the assistant rattled off to me down on my hand. Once I had it, I ended the call, stuck the pen back in its holder, tossed my phone into the passenger seat, and shifted gears. In New England, the speed limit is for when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be or when it’s snowing. At all other times the flow of traffic demands at least fifteen mph faster than the posted signs.

*   *   *

“Sorry, I really don’t have any plans to accept Jesus as my personal savior.” Suzume stood in her doorway and gave me an extremely amused look.

“Ha, ha,” I deadpanned as I hung up my jacket. Normally I would’ve just had her run out to the car and hit the road, but the cereal I’d eaten for breakfast this morning was already long gone, and I needed a pit stop.

While I made a beeline for Suzume’s fridge and the Hot Pockets that I knew she kept stashed, her focus never left my attire. “Am I expected to dress to match, Fort?” she asked. “I’m not sure my wardrobe is equipped for that level of blah.”

I pulled open her freezer. Jackpot—four-cheese pizza in microwavable sandwich form. She had two packages, and I pulled them both out for myself, then snagged one of the Philly steak ones for her.

“It’s barely eleven, Fort,” Suze noted.

“Then if you get hungry in the middle of interviewing this witch, don’t blame me.”

She considered that, then conceded the point. “Fine,
cook them up. Better throw in a few more, though.” There was the distinctive clicking sound of claws against tile, and I looked over to see two small, inquisitive fox kit faces peeping out of the cracked bathroom door—one gray and one red. Apparently Yui and Riko were visiting. Suze didn’t look at the fox kits, but she did raise her voice very pointedly. “But if anyone violates their time-out, they’re going to see me feed their lunch to the crows.” There was a flurry of scampering noises and the kits disappeared back into the bathroom.

“They’re not coming with us to Sassoon’s office, Suze,” I said flatly. My mind filled with images of how much destruction kits could wreck in a doctor’s office. Frankly, just bringing Suze along was risking menace to property.

“Since you have not kit-proofed the Fiesta, I would say not.” She gave a snort that clearly outlined her feelings about that.

“Suze, I’ve got to go talk with this witch. If you’re babysitting, I’ve got to go on my own.”

“What, without me?” Suzume sounded hurt, and she gave me a full dose of big sad eyes. I wished that I were less vulnerable to big sad eyes. “I’m just watching the kits for half an hour. Tomomi woke up with an earache, and Yuzumi had to take her to the pediatrician. It’s not going to take long, and then she’ll be back for the others and we can head out.”

I pulled open a Hot Pocket package with unnecessary force, feeling irritated. Somehow it felt less than professional to have the murder investigation sidelined by babysitting. “Doesn’t your grandmother usually watch them?”

“Wednesdays she’s got her senior swim group down at the Y.” She raised her eyebrows at my expression. “What? It’s important for the elderly to stay active. Besides, Sassoon’s receptionist told you that you could come over whenever. Let’s test that theory a little.”

“Fine,” I groused, though I knew that I’d been beaten
even before I’d shown up, “but this had better not take long.” I put the first plate of Hot Pockets into the microwave and hit the reheat button. “By the way, I’m still single, not that you asked.” The smell of melted cheese filled the apartment, and I pulled my plate out as soon as the microwave gave its little dinging noise. Plate in hand, I turned, and was suddenly brought up short by Suzume, who had come right up behind me, well inside my personal space, and had waited patiently for me. I froze automatically as she placed her hands very deliberately on my shoulders, leaned in close, and took a deep sniff of my face and chest.

She quirked an eyebrow at me, her expression unreadable. “Not even a hug from Lilah? Interesting.” Then she stepped back and busied herself by pulling out more freezer food for the kits.

If I hadn’t had anything else on my schedule, watching the kits wouldn’t have been a half-bad way to spend time. Once Suze released them from their time-out in the bathroom, they were energetic little bundles of fur and teeth. My willingness to continually throw a small, spit-soaked rubber ball down the hallway for them apparently endeared me greatly to their foxy hearts, and then I was given the very important job of distributing tummy rubs, and finally the kits collapsed on the end of the sofa for their naps.

My clothing was a bit worse for wear (Riko really liked nibbling at my shirttail), and I was wiping kit saliva off my shoes with a paper towel when Suze asked, in completely conversational tones, “So, what did Lilah tell you that you aren’t telling me?”

“What?”

“Seriously, Fort. I might not have caught a scent of anything but bear at the scene, but one conversation with Lilah and you’re basically crossing the elves off the suspect list. Spill the beans.”

I paused and considered her. I thought back over my conversation with Lilah, and how much she’d
emphasized that a lot of the information she’d told me was potentially dangerous to her if it got back to my mother. “How much of what you see when we’re working do you report to your grandmother?” I asked. Atsuko Hollis, after all, was Madeline’s closest ally.

Suze’s dark eyes narrowed, and she didn’t say anything.

I nodded, my point confirmed. “Exactly, Suze.”

“Madeline might’ve given the Ad-hene a slap on the wrist—”

I gave a snort so loud that it made the kits twitch across the room. “Oh, you did
not
just make that pun.”

Suze ignored me and kept going. “But I’ve heard rumors that there are Ad-hene down in Underhill that no one has ever seen. Did your buddy mention those?”

I weighed her point. “Lilah told me about them when we were trying to find the skinwalker. She said that there are Ad-hene who are basically imprisoned in Underhill so that the ones that we see have someone to torture every day.” The elves were such a delightful species. Really, it was hard to imagine what could have inspired some of the Irish to try to trap all of them in Underhill for good.

“And whatever she told you that you’re not telling me, did that alibi out these mystery elves?”

“No,” I acknowledged, “but I’m not sure that I’d be in a hurry to go run errands and kill bears for the sociopath who would normally be torturing me if they hadn’t gotten their hands chopped off.”

“Me neither, but let’s just keep them in mind before we write the elves completely off.”

The conversation concluded just as Riko stirred from her nap, kit batteries apparently fully recharged, and then it was back to throwing the ball. Unfortunately I really did have other things that I should’ve been doing (namely, interviewing a witch), and as the promised “half an hour” morphed into “three and a half hours,” my
patience started running short. The only reason I didn’t finally throw in the towel and head out on my own was that Suze was equally annoyed and began sending pissy text messages to the kits’ mother.

When Yuzumi finally showed up, she was revealed to be in her mid-twenties, looking exhausted and about as much in need of a shot of whiskey as I’d ever seen a woman. So, basically she was the universal embodiment of all mothers of three-year-old triplets.

“Ear infection,” was her grim opening statement, completely foregoing any regular greeting. Riko and Yui capered around her legs, and she petted their heads absently as she continued talking to Suzume, whose expression was clearly indicating that she was not pleased at the inaccuracy of Yuzumi’s babysitting estimate. “You would not believe the line at the doctor’s, and then the pharmacy took forever to fill one round of amoxicillin.”

“Tomomi in the car?” Suze asked, beginning to look a bit more forgiving.

“Yeah, she’s completely conked out. Thanks for watching the girls.” For the first time she looked over at me. She looked a lot like her sister, Takara, with incongruous blue eyes and freckles contrasting with her dark hair and Asian facial structure. “Is this the vampire?” she asked, a hint of curiosity making its way through her exhaustion.