A wave of silence rushed over the crime scene the second the three of us from S-Division stepped out of our Suburban and into the carnage. It was true silence, too, without even the whispered joke or muffled snicker you would expect when a team nicknamed "The Freak Squad" was called to a murder. I hadn't noticed it myself, but then my hearing had gone downhill since my own death three years ago. Even the top notch embalmer I had hired wasn't able to fully preserve my timpanic membranes. Marcus, who had the ears of a dog most of the time and the aural sensitivity of the most sophisticated military equipment during his special time of the month, was, of course, the one who pointed it out. It bothered me for about a day, then I realized that most people would be nervous around someone who approached a corpse like a tourist at a Las Vegas all-you-can-eat buffet.
"Looks like someone had himself some fun," Julian murmured. There was amusement and a little jealousy in his voice, and I can't say I blame him. He had done worse than this back in the day, or so he told me. Still, I got the feeling he was displeased with the way our perp had wasted so much blood.
The three of us approached the scene slowly, careful not to get any of the victim on our shoes. Even with us there to sniff out all the bits, it was going to take a while before the entire victim was found. Julian began to glide around, pointing out drops and spray patterns that the crime scene techs had missed. Marcus snuffled his way around the perimeter, trying to find the route the murderer had taken. I spent my time examining the body (or at least the chunks already found) to get an idea of the mind behind the destruction. I noticed the crime scene photographer eying me, so I made a show of licking my lips whenever I came upon a piece of brain. He didn't watch me for long.
The victim, probably male, had been here for a couple of days before a hiker had stumbled onto him shortly before sunset. The body had been torn apart and scattered over at least sixty square yards. A few years ago, the police would have surmised that this was the work of a pack of wolves and left it at that, but ever since the world realized that some myths weren't myths, a man found torn apart soon after a full moon was a potential murder victim. Then, the regular police call the Freak Squad, because who better to bring a monster to justice than a pack of monsters?
I examined the body for an hour, taking in the horrible familiarity of the wound patterns. I caught the primary's attention and nodded. He gave me the go ahead to take over the investigation. I looked around for my team. Julian was kneeling close to a tech I'd never seen before. The vampire was explaining the difference in the spray patterns from each of the major arteries. It was probably all bull, intended to scare the crap out of the rookie, who by now looked even paler than Julian. The rookie saw me trying to get Julian's attention – the embalmer had even worse luck with my vocal cords than with my eardrums, so I either had to spend my time waving frantically or carry an air horn with me at all times – and let him know I was ready. Julian smiled his widest smile and thanked the rookie with a clap on the shoulder. The rookie shuddered and turned even paler.
"Rookies are so entertaining, don't you think?" Julian crooned as he approached.
Where's Marcus? I mouthed anxiously.
Julian glanced around. "I don't see him. So, it's ours, then?"
I nodded, then knelt by the body and tried to come up with some other conclusion than the one that was knocking around my skull. Julian crouched next to me and breathed in my angst.
He can't help it.
Julian scoffed. "Of course he can. He just doesn't want to chain himself up like some feral beast. None of us do. You don't think I miss the taste of fresh blood straight from the neck of a sweet little barmaid?" He leaned in closer. "You think I don't notice the glee you take in examining a head wound? There are rules, miss, and we are not exempt." He stood and waited for my order.
I looked up at Julian. Get him.
He took out his radio. "This is Agent Red. We need a containment squad three miles east of mile marker forty-one on route six. Suspect is Marcus James. Repeat, suspect is Agent Brown."