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Guilty Pleasures :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 139 из 205If it was a human being, then they were trying very hard tomake it look otherwise. No matter what a surface look revealed, the coroner always found knife marks on the body. The question was, did the knife marks come before or after death? Was it a human trying to look like a monster, or a monster trying to look like a human?
“Where's the head?” I asked.
“You sure you feel all right?”
I looked up at him. Did I look pale? “I'll be fine.” Me, big, tough vampire slayer, no throw up at the sight of decapitated heads. Right.
Perry raised his eyebrows but was too polite to push the issue. He led me about eight feet down the sidewalk. Someone had thrown a plastic cover over the head. A second smaller pool of congealing blood oozed out from under the plastic.
Perry bent over and grasped the plastic. “You ready?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He lifted the plastic, like a curtain backdrop to what lay on the sidewalk.
Long, black hair flowed around a pale face. The hair was matted and sticky with blood. The face had been attractive but no more. The features were slack, almost doll-like in their unreality. My eyes saw it, but it took my brain a few seconds to register. “Shit!”
“What is it?”
I stood up, fast, and took two steps out into the street. Perry came to stand beside me. “Are you all right?”
I glanced back at the plastic with its grisly little lump. Was I all right? Good question. I could identify this body.
It was Theresa.
33
I arrived at Ronnie's office a few minutes before eleven. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. I couldn't shake the image of Theresa's head on the sidewalk. She had been cruel and had probably killed hundreds of humans. Why did I feel pity for her? Stupidity, I suppose. I took a deep breath and pushed the door inward.
Ronnie's office is full of windows. Light glares in from two sides, south and west. Which means in the afternoon the room is like a solar heater. No amount of air conditioning is going to overcome that much sunshine.
You can see the District from Ronnie's sunshiny windows. If you care to look.
Ronnie waved me through the door into the almost blinding glare of her office.
A delicate-looking woman was sitting in a chair across from the desk. She was Asian with shiny, black hair styled carefully back from her face. A royal purple jacket, which matched her tailored skirt, was folded neatly on the chair arm. A shiny, lavender blouse brought attention to the up-tilted eyes and the faint lavender shading on the lids and brow.
“Where's the head?” I asked.
“You sure you feel all right?”
I looked up at him. Did I look pale? “I'll be fine.” Me, big, tough vampire slayer, no throw up at the sight of decapitated heads. Right.
Perry raised his eyebrows but was too polite to push the issue. He led me about eight feet down the sidewalk. Someone had thrown a plastic cover over the head. A second smaller pool of congealing blood oozed out from under the plastic.
Perry bent over and grasped the plastic. “You ready?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice. He lifted the plastic, like a curtain backdrop to what lay on the sidewalk.
Long, black hair flowed around a pale face. The hair was matted and sticky with blood. The face had been attractive but no more. The features were slack, almost doll-like in their unreality. My eyes saw it, but it took my brain a few seconds to register. “Shit!”
“What is it?”
I stood up, fast, and took two steps out into the street. Perry came to stand beside me. “Are you all right?”
I glanced back at the plastic with its grisly little lump. Was I all right? Good question. I could identify this body.
It was Theresa.
33
I arrived at Ronnie's office a few minutes before eleven. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. I couldn't shake the image of Theresa's head on the sidewalk. She had been cruel and had probably killed hundreds of humans. Why did I feel pity for her? Stupidity, I suppose. I took a deep breath and pushed the door inward.
Ronnie's office is full of windows. Light glares in from two sides, south and west. Which means in the afternoon the room is like a solar heater. No amount of air conditioning is going to overcome that much sunshine.
You can see the District from Ronnie's sunshiny windows. If you care to look.
Ronnie waved me through the door into the almost blinding glare of her office.
A delicate-looking woman was sitting in a chair across from the desk. She was Asian with shiny, black hair styled carefully back from her face. A royal purple jacket, which matched her tailored skirt, was folded neatly on the chair arm. A shiny, lavender blouse brought attention to the up-tilted eyes and the faint lavender shading on the lids and brow.