Free Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4) by Rachel Rawlings Page A

knew about it she wouldn't have done anything to stop it. I think we all agreed Oberon's ethics were questionable at best. The coven's blind loyalty to Mahalia was why I had avoided them since her incarceration with the fae. That and some of her coven loyalists decided to shun me.
    Amalie slipped through the door just before it closed and I was actually happy to see her. I knew she didn't have anything to do with Mahalia's plans. She declared it often enough and I was being a royal bitch by lumping her in with the rest of them. I thought about what Cash said and how she had stuck up for me twice in the Daily Grind, even if it meant the shunning extended to her. I walked over, gave her a hug, and whispered an apology for being such a jerk in her ear. She squeezed back before letting go and wiped a gloved hand over her eyes.
    Aidan grabbed my hand and led me into the morgue ahead of the others. "I thought you could use a friendly face tonight."
    "It's a good thing I wanted to mend my friendship with Amalie or I might be a little pissed about you and Cash meddling like two old ladies." I gave him a little nudge in the ribs to let him know I was teasing but he seemed to be brooding over the fact that Cash had also made the effort to save an important relationship in my life. "Let's get this over with."
    Aidan nodded to Graive and she stood next to the wall of steel drawers. Her fingers just barely grazed the surface, the temperature dropping as her power oozed out seeking the right body.
    She stopped, palming the face of a drawer before pulling it open. The track on the drawer clicked as it extended to expose the girl sealed in the body bag. There was no point checking the tag on the outside of the bag to confirm it matched the one on her toe, we knew this was the right girl. I reached for the zipper, expecting my hand to shake. My nerves held up as I undid the zipper and folded the top of the bag over.
    T his girl didn't even look like a corpse. There weren't the typical signs of trauma when homicide is suspected, just her slightly upturned slit wrists. Looked like the diener already weighed, washed and taken samples from her body for the coroner.
    Her brown hair was combed and tucked neatly beneath her head. Obviously, the medical examiner hadn't performed the autopsy yet. Lividity, a purple discoloration from blood in the body settling, was absent from her body. She had been completely drained. She looked more like a porcelain doll than a dead body.
    Graive grabbed my wrist, avoiding the palm of my hand and reached for the girl. I thought she would take the girl’s hand but instead she placed her index and middle finger over the cut in her wrist like she was checking for a pulse. I was seriously hoping we weren't reanimating another corpse. The last time Graive did , the zombie's head got blown off. That might be a little hard to explain to the ME.
    There wasn't the tell tale moaning and groaning of the waking dead. Instead a rush of images flooded my mind:
    The girl at the movies with her friends, glancing to the shadow in the corner of the lobby.
    Alone in the college library, checking behind bookcases where she was certain she had seen someone.
    At a local sandwich shop, peering out the window at the street lamp to catch a glimpse of the person standing there.
    I gasped in unison with the girl in my mind's eye as fangs pierced the sensitive skin on her inner thigh. Strong hands kneaded her flesh, careful not to bruise. Her back arched and I fought the urge to do the same. I clamped my jaw shut to prevent mimicking her moans of pleasure while feeding her vampire. Holy hell.
    The teen knew what he was and wasn't afraid. The pleasure switched abruptly to pain but not how I would have expected. The vamp walked away. The girl's crumpled expression, her arms folded as she tried to stop the sobs that racked her body.
    I watched the vampire turn as if to give the girl a gli mmer of hope, only to snuff it out forever as he moved