The Vampire of Tinkerfall (Elysium #3)

Chapter Six

 Swallowing down her revulsion and fear, Trinket forced herself to take in every detail she could. The blood was hard to miss; it was everywhere. Trickling from his ears and down his temples, bubbling from his lips, congealing around his nostrils. Moving past that obvious bit, she noticed that a pool of blood was seeping out from beneath him. A wound, perhaps? But it didn't seem to be coming from his back. No, it was lower, as if leaking through the bottom of his trousers. Was he bleeding from his posterior? The thought was repulsive, but as she continued her hurried examination, her gaze was drawn to a bloodstain just below his belt. Yes, it seemed he was bleeding from every possible opening in his body.

Quickly averting her eyes, she returned her focus to the old man's face, which was covered in blood and twisted in pain. Despite this, she recognized him as the man who had come to Booker claiming to have been attacked by a vampire. The two puncture wounds on his neck were unmistakable. In fact, remnants of the bandage Booker had applied to the bite were still sticking to his skin. It looked as though someone had clawed it off. Stealing a glance at the man's hands, she saw bits of the white material stuck under his nails.

Why had he torn it off?

Looking back at the bite marks, she realized blood was pouring out of them as well. Was that why he had ripped the bandages off? But wouldn't it have made more sense to find Booker rather than to tear at his already wounded flesh?

There was a young woman sitting on the ground by the front door of the apartment building. She was huddled into a tight ball, her hands clasped over her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks, doing all she could to put distance between herself and the dead body. There was blood smeared around one of her wrists in the shape of fingers.

A whistle pierced the air, and the crowd parted to allow the police to approach. The officers shooed the gawkers away, but those who had gathered didn't need much encouragement. They all hurried back to their business, unusually quiet and somber despite the excitement that had just occurred.

Trinket took one last look at the old man before turning to follow the others. As she went off to find Daphne, Jewkes approached the scene. His gaze instantly caught on her, and he stopped short, eyebrows raised.

"Miss Trinket," he said in his gravelly voice.

"Constable," she said with a polite nod.

His eyes flickered to the body, and his mouth twisted into a grimace. "Lord, you're getting to be as bad as Larkin."

"Pardon?"

"Can't be a dead body without you showing up."

Her lips twitched, threatening to break into a crooked smile. "To be fair, I ended up here completely by coincidence."

He flashed a teasing grin. "He would say the same thing."

Shrugging, she peered back at the body, now surrounded by blue-uniformed men. "Surgeons are often in the company of corpses, Constable."

"So are murderers."

She turned her gaze to him. "You still think he's a killer?"

Sighing, he ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair. "I'm not even sure anymore. I know he's mad. Not completely certain about the murderer part, though." He met her eyes. "Tell me, is this another ungodly creation of man and animal?"

She shook her head. "No, this seems a little different."

"But just as unnatural?"

"You're a police officer. Why don't you go look for yourself?"

"Well, believe it or not, Miss Trinket, despite my occupation, I don't exactly have the stomach for the gruesome crimes that have been taking place as of late."