Free Dying Bites: The Bloodhound Files-1 by DD Barant Page B

footage was assumed to be faked, and the McMurdo site was remote enough to suppress news of the murder. When the Australian clip was released, though, the vic’s family recognized him and told the media. Removing the clips from the site didn’t help—they’d already gone viral, notoriety ensuring their survival in millions of downloaded copies. I know why the killer staggered the releases the way he has: he’s building an audience. The Japanese killing hasn’t been released yet, but everyone in the world knows it will be
    . . .

    When the killer’s added another victim to his résumé.

    I close my eyes and think. Two different methods of killing, both of them savage yet impersonal. A lycanthrope killed in a coffin, a vampire killed by silver and dogs. Almost a kind of homicidal dyslexia, a reversal of methods instead of letters. The staging of the scenes, the preparation involved, suggests a strong element of ritual—but the sadism of the killings seems much more personal. Either the killer enjoys torture, or he has a deep hatred of his victims.

    I look through the files on the vics. Not a lot in Porter’s; he was some kind of researcher working for the U.S. government near the South Pole. Everyone at the research station had been eliminated as a suspect, and Porter’s personal life seems devoid of psychopaths with a grudge.

    The lycanthrope was Andrew Fieldstone, a local who made a living running tourists out to Ayers Rock. He was a bit of a troublemaker, had several arrests for public drunkenness and assault—starting bar fights seems to be the equivalent of a sport in the small town he lived in. He hadn’t been involved in anything that would provoke this level of violence.

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    According to the animist evidence, the killer’s a human male. According to my new boss, he’s also crazy . . . but by Cassius’ own admission, vampires and thropes don’t have a lot of experience with psychopathic behavior. So why are they so sure the killer is insane? The murders, while disturbing, look more to me like the killer’s trying to send a deliberate message—and while that might seem unbalanced to most people, it makes a little too much sense to be definitely attributed to the workings of an irrational mind.

    Something isn’t right. I’m not being given the whole picture, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it must have something to do with the research facility at McMurdo. Besides, I don’t think they’d yank someone out of a parallel dimension for a paltry three deaths, no matter how gruesome. No, I’m pretty sure my employers know exactly why Porter was killed; it’s the other two deaths that have them uneasy.

    And maybe the murders that haven’t occurred yet. . . .

    The jet prepares to touch down at the New Chitose Airport on Hokkaido, the northernmost of Japan’s four islands. It’s not as densely populated as the others, big stretches of it still virgin wilderness dotted with remote lakes and the odd volcano. The murder took place in the Hidaka Mountains, at a place called the Ezo Wolf National Park; from what Eisfanger tells me, we’ll need a four-wheel drive to get out there.

    Charlie finally emerges from the pilot’s cabin and makes his way over to my seat. I’m staring down at the city through the window.

    “Ever been to Japan?” Charlie asks.

    “No,” I say. “Not on any world. You?”

    “Once. Lots of pires, not as many thropes. In Tokyo, anyway.”

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    “Maybe we should have brought Gretchen.”

    “Maybe. Most of the bloodlegging trade goes to Japan; they still have a thirst for the stuff.”

    “Bloodlegging?”

    “Black-market human blood. Hear they pay a thousand dollars an ounce.”

    “Nice to be wanted.”

    “Nah, you got nothing to worry about. That’s for virgin blood.”

    I wonder how much trouble I’ll get in for shooting my own