Page 17 of Burn Dragon Burn

Letting his lips curve into a knowing grin, he once again spoke directly into her mind,“You’ll see what a beast I can be.”

Turning on a dime, he walked towards the entrance of the Morgue, laughing aloud when she stormed past him, grumbling, “Fat chance, Scale Boy.”

Following his mate, he walked alongside Max, just waiting for the smart remark he knew was brewing. True to form, the King jested, “Your Donatella is truly something, is she not?”

Smiling so big his cheeks hurt, Rafe readily agreed, “She damned sure is.”

“Have you met her grandmother yet?” Max’s question was cloaked with more than simple curiosity, making Rafe ask, “No, why?”

Nodding as they went through the third set of double doors and the subtle scent of death and antiseptic turned to nasal warfare, Max simply replied, “The apple does not fall far from the tree.”

Wanting to ask what the hell the King was waxing poetical about, Rafe’s attention was instead jerked to the strange little man in scrubs who was talking to Nat. No taller than her five-foot-six inches, his bald head shone in the harsh florescent lights, his skin was the color and thickness of tissue paper, and the completely round, thick black plastic of his bi-focals made his eyes look like they’d been drawn by a cartoonist.

Looking into those beady black eyes, Rafe saw nothing. No spark of life, no joy, no sadness, no nothing. It was as if they were buttons or marbles placed there by the same Puppet Master who manipulated his strings. Not only was it disconcerting, Rafe wanted the Medical Examiner absolutely nowhere near his mate. It wasn’t that he was jealous, he simply could not bear to think of his lifeless existence being in the vicinity of Nat’s vitality, exuberant spirit, and zest for life.

Crossing the room in four strides, Rafe casually held out his hand and stepped in just a bit closer to the Medical Examiner. Holding his credentials in his free hand, he introduced, “I’m Rafe O’Rhordan with the DPA.”

Something akin to the feel of millions of tiny spiders skittering up his arms and down his spine attacked Rafe as the creepy little man gave him a less than weak handshake and with a nasally whine reciprocated, “Dr. Norman Batterfield, Tarrant County Medical Examiner.”

Glad when he could let go and step back beside his mate, Rafe attempted a smile, adding, “Nice to meet you.”

Raising on his toes and spinning to the left, the doctor scampered, in the eeriest fashion Rafe had ever witnessed, to the side of the closest gurney and pulled back the institutional- blue sheet. Looking at the body of the girl he knew to have been Misty Blake, the Dragon let his senses flow into her corpse.

Examining the sixth and most recent victim of the vicious serial killer from the inside-out, he saw the deliberately delicate,highly skilled traces of the black magic practitioner around her chest cavity and where her liver had once been. So different from the marks left by Dr. Batterfield’s scalpel.

“Have you determined the cause of death?” Nat’s question snapped Rafe back to reality.

“Yes.” The Medical Examiner picked up a green folder from the silver instrument table on his right. Flipping through the pages, he continued, “She was drugged with a mixture of Rohypnol and Gamma Hydroxy Butyrate.”

“Date rape drugs?”

“Yes, but that’s only the beginning.” The doctor quickly responded to Nat’s question. “From the deteriorated amount in her blood stream and with the absence of her liver to do enzyme testing, I surmise that after approximately an hour she was given a large dose of Ketamine and the freshest molecules still in her blood tell us that she was given the lethal dose of a finely mixed cocktail of all three approximately ninety minutes later.”

“And you can tell all that even after she’s been in the water?” Rafe inquired, having seen for himself what the doctor was saying was true, but wondering how mere tests could prove the times with such precision.

“But of course.” Batterfield adjusted his spectacles. “She was dead before she went into the water, therefore she did not ingest it and because of that it was not diluted in her system.”

“Something doesn’t sound right.” Max’s comment in Rafe’s head put words to the Dragon’s thoughts then the King added, “I’m going to call a member of my Pride, a very well-known and incredibly intelligent doctor who’s word I trust above all others.”

“Thanks, Max. I’ll keep Poindexter here busy.”

Forcing himself not to smile when Max’s chuckle floated through his mind, Rafe continued to ask questions. “All six girls were killed in the same fashion?”

“Oh yes, although I did not perform all the autopsies, my learned colleagues provided me with each and every report and I can say without reservation that all six girls were killed in exactly the same fashion.”

“Would that be why they are all so close in body type, height, and weight?” Nat’s thoughts were a jumble of rage, disgust, and frustration, but Rafe had to hand it to her, she could put on a good front and stay professional on the outside.

Strong as hell and determined enough to tackle anything. Damn, she’s amazing…

“Very astute, Detective Hale. That is precisely why he would be looking for victims that do not vary in especially weight, he would be assured of success in subduing, keeping them asleep and then killing them every time.”

“Have all those reports been forwarded to my office?” Her tone was stern but Rafe felt the chaotic emotions within her. Leaning closer, letting his arm brush hers and pushing calming healing magic through their bond, he was glad to see her visibly relax.

It’s the least I can do for her…

“Yes, Detective, everything should be on your desk awaiting your return.” The tone of Dr. Batterfield’s voice had the same effect as nails on a chalkboard, making Rafe overjoyed when Nat replied, “Thank you for everything, Doctor,” and turned to leave.

Following her out the way they came in, Rafe stepped up to her side as they exited the last set of double doors. Holding the stainless steel framed glass door open for her, he asked, “What next, Detective?”

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