George Joji took another close-up shot. It was real. It was really real. The thickness of the nail, the toughness of the callouses on both hands and feet. The wicked nail edge that could probably slice through flesh. Everything else about the naked man seemed perfectly normal. No fangs, no fur. So where did they keep it all—?
“George, you know you’re not supposed to be down here. The mortician is threatening to turn you into a classroom skeleton.” Detective Lawrence Robertson approached from one side of the gurney, George stood on the other.
George peered closely at the body’s hand. The thick nails. The heavy callouses. “I’m the press. See, press credentials.” He tapped the press pass clipped to his jacket with a blue-gloved finger. “Lawrence, come here and look at this. I think I really found one!”
The bigger man let out a long-suffering sigh. “What is it this time? Demon wings?”
George’s expression turned sardonic. “Hah hah. You should be a comedian instead of a cop.”
“Not likely. I have a wife and kid to support.”
“Yeah, a wife with the best sushi place in town. No, come look at this hand. Anything appear unusual to you.”
Lawrence took a long look at the hand, turning it gently in his large, gloved palm. Respecting the dead. “Congratulations. You found a construction worker. Norah’s son Brian is getting callouses like this helping at the forge at Mulcahy House. So what?”
“Not with those nails. Construction workers break their nails off all the time. This guy could remove someone’s face. And look at the striations. That’s an indication of rapid growth. Like, supernaturally fast.”
Lawrence raised a brow. “You really are trying to tell me you found one of them.”
“I’m telling you it’s a shape shifter. One of their ‘therian.’” George flashed a grin, delight dancing in his dark eyes. “This will make a hell of a blog on Monday.”
Lawrence sighed softly and pulled a yellow straw from his breast pocket. “No, it really won’t.”
“What—?”
George was in a vaguely familiar alley. Dammit. He patted his pockets and thanked the powers that be for the Cloud. Phone was gone. Again. Although, cloud or no, he expected the small bit of footage he’d taken would have been purged by the time he got home. These people didn’t need his password to break into his files.
Which was why he kept three secrets strictly to himself:
He’d developed a degree of resistance to their magical yellow power.
He kept everything backed up to another, secret location.
And it was Lawrence who kept putting the whammy on him.
George swung his leg up and over his motorcycle. Time. He just needed a little more time. Let them send their pet cop to try and stop him. Soon, he’d have enough proof to show the whole world that monsters walked among them.
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