Page 81 of The Dark Hiss of Magic
Matt’s teary reddened gaze travelled from the pompous witch to the confident wolf to the sad nymph and to me. ‘Yeah,’ he said, clearly deciding that our motley crew was above his pay grade. ‘I think I’ll do that.’
The locker roomwas even colder and more sterile than I remembered. Then again, last time I’d been searching for a body with an unknown identity and this time I knew who I was looking for. Adrienne’s grieving presence by my side heightened the cold, clinical atmosphere in a way that my earlier dispassionate visits had not.
Adrienne was crying, albeit silently. Thane put a comforting arm around her shoulders, which she seemed to appreciate. Hightower just looked ill.
Dr Singh held up the now-familiar clipboard. ‘You’ll have to sign in to view each separate body,’ he said. He gave me a faint smile. ‘It’s procedure.’
I reached for the clipboard and pen, flipped through the pages and signed where necessary. Gavin Ravensheart and Margaret Ravensheart had signed the page for Ian the troll; doubtless they were his parents. Grimacing, I wrote my name beneath theirs. Harriet and the two remaining Blue Tattoos had been in on behalf of Knox, and I added my name to that list. On the final page, I noted that nobody had come to see Simon Campbell since Fetch Jackson and myself. ‘Do I have to…?’ I asked.
‘Sign it again?’ Dr Singh finished. ‘Oh yes.’
I scrawled my name then passed the clipboard down the line.
‘I heard what happened to the Fetch.’ The pathologist shook his head. ‘What a terrible tragedy.’
‘Has his body been brought here?’
‘No. The witches’ council will deal with his remains. Besides, we’re almost full. There have been far too many deaths lately – the Redcaps have been bringing in more bodies thanusual. It happens that way sometimes. We only have so much space.’
I acknowledged his point distractedly but Hightower blanched. ‘You’re clearly very busy,’ he muttered. ‘We should come back later when things have quietened down.’
‘The bodies are only held here temporarily,’ I reminded him. ‘This is probably Adrienne’s last chance to see her friends.’
Dr Singh nodded. ‘Ian Ravensheart’s funeral is taking place on Monday morning. Simon Campbell and Knox Thunderstick’s services are in the afternoon.’ Adrienne looked even more upset.
‘They’ve been here for a few days now,’ Hightower muttered. ‘Won’t they smell?’
I gazed at him. He really didn’t want to be confronted with the reality of a corpse, let alone three of them.
‘Don’t worry,’ Dr Singh reassured him. ‘All the bodies here are refrigerated. You don’t have to worry about any unpleasant smells.’ He eyed the witch; none of us wanted to deal with Quentin Hightower’s vomit. ‘You can go outside if you’re uncomfortable. We have a very pleasant waiting room.’
Hightower puffed out his chest. ‘Absolutely not. I must remain by Adrienne’s side at all times. I am her protector.’ Thane was doing far more to fulfil that role but none of us said that aloud.
‘I can give you a senses spell,’ Dr Singh suggested. ‘Everyone who works regularly with the dead uses such magic sooner or later.’
My professional interest was stirred. I knew such spells existed; there had been whispers that a couple of EEL assassins who hated the sight of blood used them regularly to guard against physical reactions. I had always thought that if their reactions were so strong they should consider a different career, but we each made our own choices.
‘I think that would be a good idea,’ Hightower said. ‘Suchmagic will help Adrienne.’ It wasn’t Adrienne who needed the spell.
Dr Singh dipped his hand into the pocket of his lab coat and withdrew a small golden box with delicate filigree etching. He flipped the lid, revealed a collection of multi-coloured pastilles and held it out. ‘Here. One will be more than enough to prevent queasiness and dull any unpleasant smells. They are an important tool of our trade. The effects last for up to seven days. They’re created by Mystical Forces,’ he told us, name checking one of the larger witchery stores in Coldstream.
Quentin Hightower almost snapped off the pathologist’s hand. He darted forward, took one of the tiny tablets, threw it into his mouth and swallowed. Adrienne shrugged but also took one. Thane shook his head.
‘Ms McCafferty?’ Dr Singh enquired. ‘I know you don’t need one but you’re welcome to take a pastille if you wish.’
‘No, thank you.’ I stared at the small box and its contents. ‘When you say they’re an important tool of your trade, are they only used by pathologists?’
‘Not at all,’ he replied cheerfully. ‘Some doctors use them. And some undertakers.’
I licked my lips. ‘What about the Redcaps?’
Dr Singh chuckled. ‘I’ve never met a single Redcap who doesn’t pop one of these beauties at least once a week. Their job can be quite gruesome. At least we have some warning about what condition bodies will be in before we see them, but the Redcaps never know what they’ll find when they’re called out.’
I frowned then turned to the clipboard and its collection of signed sheets. The only people who could see the bodies without noting their names were the mortuary staff and, presumably, the Redcaps. They could come and go as they pleased without question.
Thane was watching my face carefully. ‘What is it, Kit?’
Probably nothing, but I felt twitchy. ‘You said that you’ve been very busy here,’ I said slowly. ‘Is that the same for every mortuary in Coldstream at the moment?’
