Tiago was down with that. The gryphon and the doctor’s conversation was more blah-fucking-blah as far as he was concerned. The First stood in an easy stance, his thumbs hooked into the back pockets of his jeans as he chatted with Telemar.
Tiago let Rune run interference. It left Tiago’s mind free to pick over the pieces of the puzzle they had to date, and to grapple with what raged inside of him. He had a precarious hold on the beast. It would not take much to send him over the edge again, and he could tell that Rune knew it. Rune kept his body language casual and relaxed, but somehow he managed to always stay between Tiago and other people.
At least Aryal had texted Rune to let him know that she was with Niniane, and that Niniane was okay. But Aryal was known for not being girl-savvy. What did okay mean to the harpy—not coughing up arterial blood? Hell, by that standard, Tiago had left her okay. He had known she would be physically safe under Carling’s protection. Mentally and emotionally were two different matters.
The need to get back to Niniane gnawed at him. Every minute he spent away was agony. He kept having something like a PTS-fucking-D reaction every time he saw in his mind’s eye how she had flinched from him and turned lifeless as a little doll, and that had happened goddamn hours ago.
It helped to have an agenda. He had stuff he had wanted to accomplish. He had corralled Cameron Rogers and they had gone to the nearest police station to look at the reports that had been filed on the two attacks. He hadn’t gleaned much more than he already knew, but it always paid to be thorough. He had taken a gander at Clarence/JoBe’s rap sheet, which was mostly full of petty shit involving break-ins and robberies. Tiago had memorized his address. After he had parted ways with Rogers, he had gone to check out Clarence’s crib and then gone to find Clarence himself.
Checking out the morgue was the last thing on his list. He wanted to see the bodies for himself and get what information he could from them. Then Tiago was going to head back to the hotel, and nothing, not the freak-show Vampyres, not the snippy-ass Dark Fae delegation, not even Niniane herself, was going to keep him from having a word with her, or maybe even three or four.
The room they had stepped into was utilitarian, full of steel and industrial-painted concrete, with tall cabinets in one corner that had to contain magical tools, for the cabinets gleamed with Power. There were no windows, of course. Tiago had been in many a morgue before—he had even been in the original Cook County morgue once—and he automatically loathed the place. The autopsies on the bodies of the three Dark Fae males had been completed. They were stored in drawers awaiting release for cremation or burial. The three Wyr were still being processed. Their bodies were laid out on tables and half covered in sheets.
Tiago prowled around the tables, looking at the males, his lip curled. That one—yeah, he remembered that one. The Wyr had died of blunt-force trauma to the head. The trauma had been Tiago’s boot heel coming down on him. One side of the Wyr’s face was now concave, but there was enough left of the other side to get an idea of what he had looked like.
Rune was still ostensibly chatting up Dr. Medusa What’s-hername, but he said telepathically to Tiago, You recognize any of these gentlemen, T-bird?
Just from the attack, Tiago said. You?
Nope. They’re all new to me.
One advantage to conducting an autopsy by magical means was that the examiner could use disinfecting spells instead of chemicals. The decision was a tricky one for the examiner to make, as it depended on the forces involved in a death, since spells could disrupt any lingering Power that might provide vital clues, or they could even have a toxic effect when certain kinds of differing Powers combined.
These jokers were not that complicated. Death-by-stupidity was the cause as far as Tiago was concerned. Who the fuck didn’t know by now that Niniane had been sheltered and was supported by the Lord of the Wyr?
The most important thing about these autopsies was how any information might aid in the investigation of the attacks. Dr. Medusa What’s-her-name had foresight. She knew the Wyr would have a keen interest in the proceedings and had kept the autopsy procedure clean of any scent contaminants. Tiago found a box of gloves on a corner cabinet and snapped on a pair. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye as the medusa took a sudden step forward. Even her head snakes looked alarmed. Rune put a restraining hand on the medical examiner’s arm, smiling down into her anxious face.