Once in a Blue Moon (working title)

         Red and blue lights reflected off the sign of the Klose-Inn Motel on the corner of 93rd and Aurora. The steadily flashing lights a sharp contrast to the random, rapid, flickering of the no vacancy on the large red and white sign. The motel itself did not look any better underneath the lights. The red and blue seemed to pick up every crack and flaw in the fake stucco of the tired old building.
         The single story building housed 12 apartment-like rooms, complete with coffee pots, and color HBO. Off-white drapes covered large windows with security mesh. A few of the curtains were slightly parted allowing curious eyes to peek through them into the dark night beyond. Human nature at its best.
         I never understood what it was about cop cars that made people suddenly interested in their fellow man, but it never failed. I suppose I should be used to it by now since I’ve been following them around for the last 2 years or so, but then again, my 1949 black Harley Davidson Panhead was not as much of a conversation starter as a couple of black n’ whites with the Christmas lights going.
         Blowing out a stream of smoke as I leaned against a battered light post, contemplating my scuffed work boots. Most people would consider me as morbid as the rubberneckers; after all, I have no reason to be at a homicide scene so shortly after the police. I just didn’t have anything better to do at midnight on a Wednesday. Well, that and the fact that they would probably be calling me in sooner or later.
         I could hear the click-tap of a pair of heels striding briskly across the broken asphalt from the group of cars. The stride had a heavy tread that made it sound pissed, my lips curled into a definite smirk, my night had just gotten better. Dropping my cigarette to the asphalt, I put it out with my heel before looking up at the approaching figure.
         “Lovely night isn’t it, Detective Alverez?” I tried to keep my voice as bland as possible but I don’t think I quite managed it. There as just something about Lucinda Alverez that irked me, I think it was the fact that she always reminded me of Mrs. Kershac, my third grade teacher, who had a voice like steel going through a meat grinder.
         “I fail to see what is so lovely about it.” I fight the urge to cover my sensitive ears; it is the voice that I hate.
         “Its mid-winter in Seattle and its not raining and you don’t think that it is a nice night? You haven’t lived here long enough.”
         “There is a corpse lying in a cheap hotel room, and we aren’t even sure if it was humanoid or animal yet. The forensic team has been through and can’t find a single hair or fingerprint; the security videos are no help what so ever, at no time did the killer ever face the camera or get close enough to it for us to be able to judge height or features. So I fail to see what is lovely about it.” Alverez was the kind of woman that could find fault with the Pope, which means I am as far from perfect as a being can get. However, considering I go fuzzy once a moon and have a gift for death and the dead, I can’t really cast stones at anyone.
         “What do you have so far?” As we walk toward the crowd of police and medics she fills me in on what information they had been able to gather so far; it really wasn’t much.
         Two people, a man and a woman, rented room 8 shortly before 10 o’clock tonight, at half past eleven the occupants of rooms 7 and 9 began to complain to the management about the noise level in the room. When the night manager went to tell the couple to keep it down, he found the body and called the cops. Twenty minutes later the first car arrived on site and secured the scene.
         “Was the victim the man or the woman?”
         “We don’t know.” I did a double take on that one, how could you not know?
         “Explain.”
         “You’ll see when you get in the room.” As we cleared the police tape around the room, I noticed that several officers where getting reacquainted the their dinners, and quite a few more were looking extremely pale. We stopped when we reached the yellow caution tape that surrounded several of the cars or rather when the 6’3” linebacker in a blue uniform refused to lift the tape for us.
         “No civilians are allowed within the perimeter.” I was receiving a rather frightening glare as he spoke, as if he dared me to dispute this fact. He looked like he played football in college and could bench-press a motorcycle, his overdeveloped muscles were straining against his slightly rumpled shirt. I opened my mouth to cut him down to size when I thought better of it, it was never a good idea to insult the ranks in front of the boss; it had a tendency to make them less than helpful. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut and gave him my best helpful innocent routine while Alverez argued her way past him.
         “Can you deal with a scene this close?” she asked as we ducked under the tape and began to move toward the motel.
         “This close?” She turned to look at me before glancing up at the night sky. Wondering what she was talking about I glanced heavenward; barely visible through the perpetual clouds was a three-quarter moon.
         “I’ll be fine.” Detective Alverez gave me a disbelieving look, but motioned me toward a cream colored door with a black number 8 on it. Even before I touched the doorknob I could smell the blood, thick and sweet, feel its weight on the back of my tongue like a ball bearing. The beast inside me that lay dormant most of the time perked its head up at the metallic scent, it knew that smell and what it meant; there was fresh meat nearby and it was hungry.
         Maybe I would be wrong about being able to handle this much blood so close to a full moon, but I would be damned if I was going to admit that to Alverez or any of the other officers that were eyeing me. Taking a deep breath brought an even stronger smell of death to my nose and did nothing to help my control, I opened the door.
         “Shit!” Not my most poetic statement ever but accurate nonetheless. The smell of blood that had been slightly noticeable outside filled the room making me feel like I was swimming in it. Closing my eyes against the pure red scene that greeted me, I heard Alverez step up behind me, close enough to smell her perfume over the blood and meat but no close enough to feel the heat of her body. I could do this, I had to do this.
         Opening my eyes I began to move methodically through the room taking in everything before processing it. Red blood covered the walls and furniture, and squished in the carpet beneath my boots, it was still the bright glossy color fresh spilled blood got before it hardened into a flaky mess. There was more blood in the room than could possibly come from one human being.
         Did the killer bring extra blood with them? Were the cops false in assuming that one of the people that rented the room was the killer? Could both people be dead? There were small bits of flesh and muscle lying about the room; it was hard to believe that these pieces no bigger than a baseball were once a person. Crouching down I took a closer look at one of the bits resting next to where I was standing. The edges had a rough look to them not like a hack so much as a tear; something had pulled this chunk off of a much larger thing.
         I took a quick glance at the walls, noticing the even spread of blood and the bumpy texture of it. There were no indents near the base of it which made me curious. I mentally stowed my assessments before moving on.
         Shifting through the smells I began to try and sort them into categories my kitty brain could understand. The dry chalky taste in my mouth was from the fingerprint powder used by the forensic team, but the moist taste of graveyard dirt was not from them unless someone had tramped through a cemetery before coming here, it was possible, rare but possible. There was a hint of rain, not unusual in Seattle, but the smell of forest and something primal was.
         An animal of some kind had been through here and recently. I filed the information away and moved on. The only smell after that was the disinfectant that had been used to clean the room previously, no help there. I focused on that last smell as I looked around hoping to stave off my hunger until I was out of sight of the cops. They had a tendency to get jumpy when people go furry around them.
         Knowing that they hadn’t found anything with their lights and scopes I decided to try a different approach. Looking back at the door, I saw several officers watching me with Detective Alverez. Catching the detective’s eye I glanced at the uniforms around her, she nodded and turned to dismiss the men.
         After they had left I let the leash on my beast slip a little, just enough to take my senses to the next level. My eyes bled into something less human and hungrier, I could no longer focus on the faint smell of disinfectant, but at the moment that didn’t matter. Foot and handprints, glowed from the floor and furniture, things that couldn’t be seen by humans were easily distinguishable to me. The police all wore a slick sole dress shoe that I dismissed easily, Alverez had the low heeled foot print, but I didn’t think that any officer in the SPD was allowed to wear tennis shoes or deck shoes, both were present, though nothing significant came of following them around the room.
         The latex gloves left a smooth handprint, but there were several different places where there was a distinct rippling to the print like that left by leather gloves, only one set off alarm bells. On the low chest of drawers were two such prints, one on the top where the people had braced themselves and another was smeared near the knob of a drawer.
         “Can I touch?” I asked not bothering to look over my shoulder.
         “Yes, you are the last one through.” That made my job a lot easier; I liked not having to worry about ruining any kind of evidence that might have been left after the forensic team came through. I had had that lecture far too many times; it had made me cautious at scenes.
         Gently grabbing the knob I pulled out the drawer revealing the complimentary phone book and bible that all rented rooms seem to have, there was no reason for a murderer to open this drawer unless s/he was hiding something in one of them. Pulling out the books I held them up by their covers and shook them vigorously. Nothing fell out, no notes constructed of magazine letters or business cards of their next victims, no hate letters or photos with their eyes burned out. Flipping through the pages I didn’t see anything unusual no highlighted names or torn sheets, it was almost scary at the lack of anything.
         There was something in this drawer that had caused the killer to look through it. Maybe it wasn’t the contents of the drawer that drew their attention but the drawer itself. Setting the books aside I yanked the drawer trying to pull it out only to have it get stuck about a foot out. Judging from the depth of the chest their should be another 7 or 8 inches of room left, leaning down to peer inside I caught the faintest sight of a crease in the back of the drawer. Squatting in front of the chest I reached in with both arms trying to find a place that my fingertips could grip, but there was no place to get a grip.
         I let my hands shift slightly; elongating the fingers and nails, unfortunately that also required several other changes, like a fine layer of silky black hair covering them up to my elbows and paw pads appearing on my palms. Neither of which bothered me but I would have to shift them back before my hands left the drawer, things like that had a tendency to make people nervous.
         Using my new more sensitive fingers I found a slightly wider place in the back of the drawer where I could wedge my nails into it. A quick yank was sufficient to pull out the panel in the back of the drawer. The smell of decay poured out of the newly opened space turning my stomach nearly making me gag.
         “Lucy, is forensics still around?” Dropping the panel on the top I turned to see the policewoman staring down at my hands, I had forgotten to shift them back. “Don’t freak on me now, Alverez, you need to get forensics in here now.”
         She shook her head slightly as if to clear her thoughts before nodding. When she left I began shifting my hands back, it is always more painful to become human then it is to give in to the panther, more energy draining too. By the time the forensic team was at the door I had lost the fur and pads but still and the unnaturally long fingers and nails. Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my faded black jeans I nodded them to the drawer and left the motel room to let them find out what was decaying in the secret niche.
         I took a deep breath of fresh night air, letting the slightly damp air fill my lungs driving out the bloody breath that I had been breathing since I first stood outside the motel door. Crossing under the bright yellow police tape I wound my way through the thin crowd that had gathered, trying to satisfy their morbid curiosity. As I began to look around the parking lot trying to find out where Detective Alverez had disappeared to I groped at the inside of my beaten leather jacket for the pack of cigarettes that I had stuffed there when I had left the office.
         I spotted Alverez as my fingers curled around their target; I pulled the lighter and a cancer stick out of the crumpled pack before walking towards her. I used the lighting ritual to order my thoughts, I have to admit I never cared much for this part of the night; when I had to hunt down Lucy and tell her everything I got from the scene. It always made me fell like I was telling her superficial things, after all, she would get a full report from the forensic team within a week, but she insisted that I give her these reports every time.
         Heavenly smoke filled my lungs as I took a deep drag on the cigarette, holding it in my lungs just long enough for it to burn slightly, I blew it out the side of my mouth as I stopped in front of the detective. I nearly laughed at the slim little notebook she held in one hand and the black and white BIC pen in the other, but I value my life too much to actually laugh at her. Taking the time for another pull on the cigarette, I drop it to the cracked cement and blow out the smoke. I watch as the pen comes to attention, waiting for me to spew out mind-blowing truths, unfortunately, it’ll just have to keep waiting.
         “There isn’t much I can tell you, the guys in forensics will be able to tell you more than I can but this is what I can tell from the room. Based on the amount of blood in the room and the different scents emanating from it I’m guessing you have 2 vics and at least 2 large animals, off the top of my head I would say cows would be your best bet. There was a distinct smell of old death and graveyard, either your murderer got some of the blood from a really fresh corpse or you might have a rouge vampire on your hands. If it was a vamp, they have the best control I have ever seen or they were so full of blood that the scent didn’t make them feral. If they had gone feral there would be a lot more blood and a lot less building.
          “The blood on the walls appeared to have been dripped down the walls from up near the ceiling and then spread about, judging from the texture I would say they used a paint roller. In order to get the blood up that high the murderer would have had to lift the vic or use a bucket. I didn’t see any indentions from a bucket or ladder, but they could have been wiped away when the carpet was soaked.
          "The carpet must have been the last thing that was done because I couldn’t smell blood anywhere else but in the room and on the police that had been through the scene. The edges of the pieces were too rough to have been cut with a knife, I’m guessing claws or teeth were used, though the meat and muscle could have been torn from the skeleton. I didn’t get a good look at the thing in the drawer but right now my best guess would be the head or heads of the victims. I didn’t see any sign of bones or bone fragments so unless they were taken out before I arrived I think that your perp took them with her/him, probably as a souvenir, or some guy will call in tomorrow telling you he found the bones in a dumpster.
          "Not much else to tell you, the killer was a pro though, leather gloves, all the prints have been wiped clean, he really knew that room though, had to in order to know about the false back on that drawer. ”
         I took a breath of air and went back over my monologue to see if I had left anything out. Alverez finished scribbling whatever she wrote in that book of her’s and looked at me expectantly. I couldn’t think of anything that I had left out so I just shook my head at her and shrugged.
         A great pressure had begun to settle itself behind my eyes making them feel like they were going to burst. I dug the heels of my palms into the sockets trying in vain to relieve some of the pain. I had to stop when I got the bright yellow starbursts that appear when you push to hard against your eyes.
         "You all right, Devlin?" The concern in Alverez's voice almost made me laugh; if she was worried about me then I must look like shit.
         "Fine, Luce, just a little headache that's all."
         "That time of the month again, Jessica?" Oh this is so what I didn't want right now.
         Victor Freemont was the worst of the worst, a tabloid reporter that had been attacked by a lycanthrope two years ago, but hadn't contracted Lycanthropy. I think that it couldn't survive in the toxic waste that passed for the man's (and I use the term very loosely) blood. Every ousted shape shifter in the city had been torn apart by his column in the Seattle Star and being one of the most public ones I was his favorite target.
         "So how is the Baddest Pussy in the city tonight, huh?" You would think he would give up on the cat jokes, but noooooooooooo.
         "I don't know, Vicky, how is your wife?" He lunged at me like I hoped he would, I had my gun out and pointed at his head before he had moved more than a few inches.
         "Put it away, Devlin, or I'll arrest you for carrying a concealed." I hated to do it especially with the smug look on Freeman's face, but I know what happens to shifters in jail and silver handcuffs are worse than the reporter will ever be. Besides, if I shot him with the detective standing between us I'd never see the outside again.
         "And you, Mr. Freeman," Alverez had rounded on the little slime ball. "You of all people should know better than to bait a person who could rip you apart joint by joint. Now get back behind the police line."
         "The press has a right to know what's going on, Detective, especially with a monster on the case." That simple sentence got Lucinda Alverez as close to being well and truly pissed as I have ever seen her in our five year acquaintance. She began to stalk him back towards the police tape, her sensible navy pumps making no noise as she pushed him backward.
         "If you want to know what is going on, Freeman, then I suggest you wait for the press conference like all the other vultures!" The last word was accompanied with one final hard shove that knocked him back on his fat ass. He sat there in a small puddle of oily water, being soaked through his garish hunter green slacks with their miniature pink polka-dots and gapped at the tall woman stomping away from him.
         Me? I did what any girl with an ounce of self-preservation would do I turned my back and try to stifle my laughter before Alverez reached me.