Read Online Dying Bites: The Bloodhound Files-1 by DD Barant - Free Book Online

and clots of fur; there are nine of them, varying in length.

    Eisfanger gives me a quick rundown. “These two went through at the calf, between the tibia and the fibula. These two slid between the ulna and radius bones in the forearms. This pair penetrated the lower abdomen just below the ribs, piercing the large intestine.”

    “Pinned,” I murmur. “Like a butterfly on a board. What about these three on the top?”
    There was a trio of blades in a row at face level.

    “These two would have pierced his cheeks. You can see that the middle one is shorter than the others, and angled slightly downward; it would have penetrated just above his lip, and not very deeply.”

    “In his human form.”

    “Well, yes. When he transformed, it would have been pushed through the muzzle, splitting the nose. The blades on either side kept him from turning his head.”

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    “And the angle is just enough that if he slams forward, it won’t push into his brain.” I’m thinking hard, in that zone where I let my thoughts turn into spoken words without much of a filter to stop them.

    Charlie says, “That wood doesn’t look strong enough to hold a thrope, especially one half-crazy with pain.”

    “That’s the idea,” I say. I tap the lid and glance at Eisfanger. “Sheet metal sandwiched between thin layers of wood, right?”

    Eisfanger nods. “We’re not sure why he went to the trouble.”

    “Incentive,” I say. “The wood’s there to create the illusion that escape is possible. He was supposed to struggle. He didn’t have the room to break free, but he did have enough to carve himself up from the inside out. But even then, note how the blades are positioned: between two bones in all four extremities, because bone will last longer than muscle. The blades are positioned so that the sharp edge faces away from the nearest artery—the killer didn’t want the vic to bleed out too soon.”

    “To what end?” Gretchen asks. “Is this pure sadism, or is there a deeper purpose? Are we looking at retribution or ritual?”

    “Too early to say. How about the third victim, the Japanese one?”

    “We don’t have that evidence yet,” Eisfanger says. “The murder only took place”—he glances at his watch—“twenty-two hours ago.”

    I stare at him. “And you let me lie around in a hospital bed?”

    “I, uh, didn’t have any say in that—”

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    “Never mind. Gretchen—this case has leapfrogged three continents so far. Does our mandate cover international jurisdiction, or do we have to sit at home and wait for the phone to ring?”

    “We are empowered to travel to countries that are signatories to the Transnational Supernatural Crimes and Activities Act,” she admits.

    “Is Japan one of those countries?”

    “Yes.”

    “Then I suggest you pack your Dramamine, or whatever vampires take to prevent spewing their O-Negative breakfast into an airsickness bag. That crime scene is less than two days old, and I want to see it with my own eyes.”
    THREE

    The inside of the NSA jet looks more like a corporate Lear than a government transport: rich walnut paneling in the main cabin, onboard galley, butter-soft leather seats that recline all the way down. I’d expected Cassius to need some convincing, but he’d just nodded and told me the jet was already prepped; thinking back on it, I realize the reason I was probably zapped to Seattle in the first place was because of its position on the Pacific Rim—Cassius was thinking two steps ahead. When I mention that to Gretchen, she just grins and shakes her head. “Only two steps? My dear, Cassius was thinking two steps ahead when people still considered steam engines to be the epitome of high technology. Now he thinks in terms of the entire dance, not just the first few movements.”

    Gretchen doesn’t come with us, but Cassius assures me she’ll be more