Archangel’s Blade (Guild Hunter #4)(40)
Author: Nalini Singh

Santiago grunted. “Yeah, except the only places he’s been gnawed are the neck and the inner thigh.”

The carotid and the femoral arteries.

Leaning in close, she visually examined both wounds. The victim’s pants were bunched around his ankles, but he still had on his underpants, so the attack had been about the blood—though his attacker had wasted a great deal of it, from what she saw around the body. “I’m no pathologist, but looks to me like the wound is too degraded to determine if this was a vampire.” The fang marks had been obliterated in the mess of flesh.

“One of the hunter-born could scent the skin,” she said, “see if they catch a vampiric scent. Ransom’s in the city, not sure about Elena—I’ll call the Guild, ask if one of them can swing by.” Everything about this scene felt off. Another hunter’s input would be welcome. “Blood splatter makes it clear he was killed here,” she murmured after making the request. “Pretty public at night.”

“Yeah, but this street’s almost all daytime businesses, no restaurants, one hole-in-the-wall bar,” Santiago said, salt-dusted eyebrows heavy over eyes of faded brown. “Bar staff had cleaned up and were out of here by three thirty, according to the manager I just woke up. Launderette down the street opens at six thirty. Given the time our anonymous tipster called in the body, I’d put money on this going down between four and five.”

“Before it would’ve been light.” Honor nodded. “Otherwise, there’s probably a few folks who’d cut through to the subway entrance.”

“Yeah, I’ll have my men canvass the area tomorrow morning, see if we can catch any of the regular foot traffic.” He looked up as a shadow swept across them.

An instant later, an angel landed beside them, her wings the most stunning black, segueing to midnight blue and indigo, then to a gleaming shade that reminded Honor of the dawn, until the primaries were a shimmering white-gold. Tall, with lithe muscle over her frame, Elena had the kind of grace that came only with knowing how to move your body against opponents who were usually stronger and faster.

Honor had seen the photos, of course, but the reality of a fellow hunter with wings was surreal. “I know I’m staring,” she said into the hush that had fallen, “but, Elena, you have wings.”

Elena laughed, her eyes appearing silver in this light, her damp, near-white hair pulled back into a neat French braid. “I still wake up surprised some days,” she said, her face losing its shine when she turned toward Santiago. “I’ll check the scent.” Those incredible wings spread out on the dirty street as she knelt on the asphalt.

Elena didn’t appear to worry about it, peeling back the tarp to examine the neck, then the thigh wound. “No scent on him that might possibly be vampiric.” Her voice was decisive. “I’d expect something strong, given how long the attacker had to have spent with the victim.” She glanced up at Honor, frown lines marring the deep gold of her skin. “This one’s weird. Human with filed-down teeth, maybe?”

Filed-down teeth.

It was the cue Honor’s mind needed, flicking back to a short article in a Guild newsletter she’d read while in the hospital. “Santiago, can we move him just enough that I can see the back of his right shoulder?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Placing his gloved hands under the body, he shifted it to the side. Elena quickly gloved up, too, so she could help hold the body as Honor went around to push up the victim’s T-shirt. Neither the cop nor the winged hunter said a word, but Honor could taste the tension on her tongue, it was so pervasive.

Deciding to pretend she hadn’t noticed what was clearly a private rift, she managed to bare the victim’s shoulder. “Damn, I didn’t really think I’d find it.”

Two heads twisted around to examine her discovery. It was a small tattoo—the letter V in a ring with a wing coming out from each side. Elena scowled. “I’ve never seen that.”

“That edition of the Guild newsletter came out while you were off growing wings.”

“You actually read the newsletter? I thought people like you were urban legends.”

“Kinda just saw it out of the corner of my eye,” she said with a grin that felt natural. “This ‘movement’ ”—she tapped the tattoo—“apparently originated in London. Looks like it’s crossed the Atlantic.”

Lowering the body back down, Santiago rose to his feet, his joints creaking like old timbers. “Tell me about this.”

Honor stood, too, aware of Elena pulling her wings tight to her back as she followed. “My info is out of date, but it’s an underground clique started by older teens and people in their early twenties. They emulate the ‘vampire lifestyle.’ ” Shaking her head, she looked down at the lump beneath the tarp, saddened by the loss of a life hardly begun. “Mostly it’s an excuse to have sex.”

“Aren’t most things at that age?” Santiago muttered.

Honor hadn’t ever been that young, couldn’t imagine such innocence. “Yes, it’s fairly harmless—except some of the adherents take it one step further and drink blood from one another.”

“You’re shitting me,” Santiago said.

“Afraid not.”

“Vampires can drink from any donor because their bodies process out any problems in the blood,” Elena said, scowl darkening her eyes to storm gray. “These kids are messing with who knows what diseases.”

“If they can even digest it,” Honor said, unable to see the lure of a life ruled by blood.

Santiago pushed back his jacket, hands on his hips. “You saying we should look for vomit?”

Elena was the one who answered. “It would depend on how much he or she actually drank, but yeah.”

“Great, that’ll make some uniform’s day.”

“Could be some of these kids start to think they are vampires,” Honor added as Santiago called over a young officer, who curled up his lip at the task given him but began to circle out from the scene. “I’d take a look at who this boy’s friends were. Seems to me he was playing donor to someone else’s vamp and things got out of hand.”

“From the location of the bites,” Elena said, “I’d bet on sex being in the mix.”

Santiago rubbed a hand over his face, his stubble scraping on his palm. “Good old-fashioned sex and violence.”